


Andy's Bucket List of Life

by cyberpunk2183



Series: My Girl [1]
Category: The Devil Wears Prada (2006)
Genre: Abusive Relationships, Anorexia, Attempt at Humor, Cuddles, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/F, Fluff and Angst, Slow Burn, idiot in love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-20
Updated: 2019-06-09
Packaged: 2020-03-08 10:45:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 21
Words: 61,954
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18893062
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cyberpunk2183/pseuds/cyberpunk2183
Summary: Basically, Andy is a bit ADHD, secretly loves Miranda from the get-go but doesn't know it, and pays her dues. The rest is history.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Someone asked for stronger warnings...I'm sorry if I bothered anyone that wasn't my intention. I didn't put this super high on the scale because of the lack of sexual content.
> 
> Firstly, Andy cusses a lot in her internal monologues lot's of f*bombs and b*s things like that. I totally get if that isn't your thing, no worries I've not read stuff because it's a bit over done, but Andy insists on talking like this. It's kind of stream of consciousness piece for me, so I'm not editing a lot in that sense.
> 
> Trigger warning things: Emotional, physical, and even some sexual abuse are present in very real ways. I don't want to give away the relationships or the story, but people say some direct things to Andy even with all her humorous takes on it and her own unique views on the situation. There are themes of being abused, closeted, and anorexic/weight brought up, so if these things are a trigger for you, you might consider reading another story. I draw from dregs of reality so they have bite.
> 
> If there are any other warnings you would like that don't give away the plot of the story, please fill free to leave a comment and I will consider it. If this was a movie it would be R for language at the moment and not really for anything else.

I’m not always the best judge of character. I know that. Hell, if my life has taught me anything I should never trust those who are closest to me. But I do know one damn thing and that’s how to get shit done. 

I’ve learned how to play the long game like no one’s business. There are a few goals that supersede everything. 

Andy’s bucket List of Life:

1\. Whatever the hell freedom is: I want it. I want to live, love, and work doing what I want.

2\. I want to be a journalist, aka writer: I want to share other’s stories. Those who can’t share themselves, because I’ve been there done that and it sucks.

_Pay your dues. Adulting sucks._

There are boxes everywhere in the little apartment over the pizza place in Queens. Most of them are not mine. I have a duffle bag full of clothes, two notebooks, five pens, and three books. A copy of The Elements of Style, Transmetropolitan, and The Great Gatsby. Every single pot, pan, utensil and furniture is Nate’s.

Nate. Nate. Nate. We met in college, through Lily, my best friend from high school. Some party in her dorm room which transformed into a regular group of friends. Doug, her, and Nate. Nate pursued me most of college and it wasn’t until the end of the last semester I finally agreed we maybe had a thing. Okay some things.

His kissing isn’t that bad. His cooking is great and sharing an apartment is definitely more affordable than living alone in New York without said job. Nate is already cooking for some restaurant on East End and being a dick about it, but if I were the one paying the bills I’d be a dick about it too.

So I do the next best thing a live-in girlfriend can do. I unpack, clean and set up the whole dang apartment in two days straight while working on my CV with every spare moment I can conjure.

The rest of the week, I hit up every free standing publication in New York City. Downtown. It’s crazy. I apply for every single magazine, newspaper, and anything that involves the typing of said words on computer screen that’s what Andy does and Andy does that well.

The buzz of the city inhales my midwestern sensibilities, but I’ve never felt more free than when I’m hitting the pavement and lost in the urban jungle of skyscrapers.

A few weeks pass and I don’t hear anything. Crickets. Damn crickets to my perfect CV. So I do what I do best and I don’t give up. I put more CVs out and even try some book agencies, because heck I need something. Something real and Nate’s starting to push a waitressing position from his restaurant onto me like that’s what a college educated girl should be doing.

“You know everyone has to pay their dues, babe,” he says as if it’s obvious. I glare at him from over my laptop, typing away and looking for more positions to apply for. Even dumb secretary positions for magazines…anything to get my foot in the door. Foot out of ass and into door, Andy.

So that’s how I get the job for Runway. 2nd Assistant to one, Miranda Priestly, editor-in-chief.

The job a million girls would kill for or so I am told from the get go and repeatedly like some damn record on skip

Runway’s office is nothing but glass and air, fine art, haughty clothing, and prim models on stilts. Enter, Andy midwesterner in frumpy sweater and skirt and I’m out of place like a cactus in the frozen tundra of Alaska. This is not your homeworld, Andy. You might need to find another place to reside, aka that waitressing job that Nate’s been pressuring you about?

The lady interviewing me is Emily, an English bitch. She’s all over me, convinced I can’t handle the job from the moment she lays eyes on me. Like heck no, lady…you don’t know me. You don’t know me from Adam. 

Everyone always does this. They look at me. They look at my clothes. My haircut, my stupid starry-eyed look, and they just make these huge assumptions about who and what I am. Nobody really knows me. My best friend of a thousand years, doesn’t know me. This English bitch who thinks she’s god of the fashion underworld definitely doesn’t know me. 

No one has a damn clue what it took for me to be standing right here in the offices of Runway—not Lily, not Doug and sure as heck not Nate and this red-haired bimbo. No one knows what is hiding under all this innocence. So I’ll have to prove Emily wrong.

I got to find my shot. That one shot…

Bingo. Said shot waltzes in the form of a willowy, but firm woman dressed in a designer dress and a soft, lilting voice that somehow shreds the office into wilting plants. Blue eyes startle, as they travel over me catching me like a deer in headlights.

Shit.

She definitely finds me wanting. All of my chubby frumpiness on display, damn it. Don’t fidget like a moron. Next paycheck is going into buying decent office clothes and…and stilts. This is Miranda fucking Priestly, the editor of Runway. My future boss…

Hopefully….

“Andrea,” the woman says and clucks her tongue, rolling the words over her tongue like a cheap wine that isn’t to her liking. “You want to work in fashion, but you do not believe in fashion.” She doesn’t even sound disgusted, not really—just mildly annoyed and that’s so… Forget it. Forget it. You can’t go off on your future boss in your future office or none of this will be future anything. Put on your job face, smile, and open up those big god-damned eyes and sell your soul like you mean it, Andy.

“I want to be a journalist and you’re the only place that’ll take me.” Internal wince. Did I just say that? I’m not desperate. No. Not desperate at all. “ I know if you give me a shot I can do this job. Mrs. Priestly—”

“Miranda.” She’s looking at me like I’m a creature from another planet.

Shit.

This isn’t working. You got to sell it. Put it on. Do the show and dance.

“Miranda—” Some guy in a tailored suit glides around me, distracting both of us and is in the office. The office that I’m interviewing in…

“Oh, Nigel, do you have the mock-ups?” Miranda Priestly says as the man drops off a dozen pictures across her desk, literally covering it and my twenty seconds of fame are done, but I’m gonna fight, because that’s what Andy does and Andy needs this fucking stupid assistant job.

“I can do this job, Miranda,” I try to speak over the guy talking and catch the attention of Miranda Priestly, but she’s nose deep in that shit and it’s not like I can jump in after them. 

Damn it. I’m blowing this. You’re supposed to be nice and as soft spoken as this magical couture woman. This majestic salt and peppered hair monarch that looks like she should be a mythological creature instead of the editor-and-chief of a magazine

One, Ice Dragon. Zero, Andy, the midwesterner. 

I deflate when I see Miranda waves her hand, dismissing me. Rolling my eyes, I step out of the office and look to Emily, working a mile a minute at her desk on her phone and computer. I shrug, she waves me toward the door like I’m the big eyesore that I am. 

I don’t need this stupid job. I’ll get a real job, where I can write and do what I want. Holding plates and delivering them is a real job, right? It involves real things like food. There has to some damn job in New York that can at least get my foot in the door. I hold the bridge of my nose. No tears in New York. No tears in New York.

“Andy!” I hear the clacking of stilts before I see Emily running like a maniac toward me on the ground floor of Elias-Clark. What?

And that’s that. My first job in New York City.

***

It is a life change, an adoption into the finer points of a cult I had no idea even existed. The cult of fashion. A billion dollar industry that fluctuates at the drop of a hat, or the opinion of one Miranda Priestly, and where colors glaze over into minute differences. Two plus two does not equal four. No, it equals cerulean and aquamarine and the history of Oscar de la Renta, the art of color and textiles.

I’m lost in a whirlwind of activity, action, and knowing I’m the fish at the bottom of the barrel, capable of being knocked off at any second for a single mistake. Andy never wins at this game, because the dice are loaded and Miranda is only coming up roses.

Miranda doesn’t handle mistakes. See, I thought, I’d worked some jobs where you had to be spot on and good, but this is like—if my one no-foam skimmed latte with an extra shot of expresso coffee order isn’t the right blazing hot 120 degrees then I’m going to get fired. Now add about 232 other demands that I must juggle simultaneously and know how to do from the get-go and to the level of perfection of said coffee order and this is a mere taste of my daily grind.

Miranda has already been through two different second assistants and I’ll always be on thin ice because of my lack of knowledge on the industry. I spend my evenings laughing it up with Nate, Doug, and Lily at how ridiculous these guys are, and then it’s one o’clock and I’m reading the Beautiful Fall, The End of Fashion, and anything on Coco Chanel from the library. I have to hide them all from Nate. He’ll never let me live it down.

Andy, reading and learning about fashion? Haha. That girl can’t put two colors together let alone speak derp. Andy’s the smart, fat one, not the skinny airhead.

I don’t get it. Of course, I don’t get any of it. I grew up in the midwest buying from Wal-mart and convinced that I’d never have any exterior looks to even matter for fashion to make a difference on my own body. It was never applicable. Sure things looked good on other people. Damn good on lot’s of bodies that I’ve seen, good feminine bodies too. No, Andy. Down Andy. We’re practicing with boys now, with Nate.

Beauty isn’t in my repertoire, my catalogue of all things Andy. I’m chubby, plain, but intelligent. I think, that’s what my writer professor said in those exact words. Kind of intelligent. It’s my own sharp whit, humor, and charm that’s gotten me where I am today in New York and through college on my own—all fucking by myself. So, see there Dad. Didn’t need your money after all and definitely not your knuckle sandwich. Mm-hm.

Now, that’s earned me a place in Nate’s fucked up life. Day bizillion in the trenches of Runway, equals a war zone in the apartment of said life.

Nate does not like my job. Period. It’s not like he was ever into fashion and now that I’m too tired to hide said books and how tired I am all the time…it just explodes constantly like fucking minefields.

“I just don’t get it, Andy. Why even fuck with that woman when you could do something easier? I mean, the job is still available. It’s always available. Running tables and making tips is doable. You’ve already lost a lot of weight—” Gee thanks hon. “From running around for that bitch on wheels—”

Shutting up Nate has turned into desperate matters, kissing and fucking. Fucking always works with him. He’s a better kisser than he is a fucker, to be honest, but he is a worse talker.

Appeasing him comes down to the bedroom, and that’s something I can do to make him stop talking. Because I’m not sure…I’m not sure about anything and I’m less sure when he’s talking and telling me how goddamn chubby I am while feeding me late night grill cheeses and squeezing my love handles while we fuck as he laughs at them. 

“You know…” he says, leaning his head back on his arm after I’ve fucked him into oblivion. He looks damned pleased with himself. “You’re never going to make it as a writer. I read that piece you wrote the other day and it was trash. The Inquirer wouldn’t even touch that thing with a ten foot pole.”

And something shatters inside my chest, because when did I give Nate permission to read my stuff? To have opinions that fucking matter? I turn over in bed, feeling the hot pricks of tears in my eyes as his hand—too tight—bruising—grab my arm.

“I’m not done, Andy,” he says in that low dangerous voice. That voice promises to keep dappling purple and blue bruises across my body, nice and hidden because he’s tired of me fucking with him and not listening to him.

Reasons why I should stay with Nate: He cooks, keeps the house clean, and we have the same taste in movies. When we actually have time to watch them together that is. Nate is a cook so he works like seven days a week during weird hours and I work for Miranda fucking Priestly which is like all hours of my life. 

When we both have the evening off. We have the same friends and can go out and hang and get drunk. God, we’re good at getting drunk together, even when we’re not. Then, we’ll bang the night away. Nate is safe, he’ll take care of me and maybe one day my fucked up life will make sense again. Right? That’s the way it works.

Get job. Meet guy. Get married. Life starts. Right?

 

But nothing makes sense.. Especially not at Runway. It’s like everything is in Miranda code or fashion code and I don’t speak any of those languages. I think, it’s stupid because I don’t understand it and no matter how much I read about it. It only gets worse from there. This guy did this and that happened and then Coco Chanel vomited fashion and changed the world. 

My only guide in office is mystic Nigel, a friendly man who cuts it to me straight from a not straight way. Nigel is perhaps the first openly gay man I’ve ever met. I mean, I’ve officially met more now that I work at Runway and fashion, but being a closeted woman from the midwest Nigel is like my unicorn guide of all things that glitter in this realm.

“You’re not really trying though, are you?” He challenges me.

Fuck. 

“I’ve been doing everything to get this woman to like me and she hates my guts. She’s going to fire me,” I tell him straight up, but it’s nothing new. She was going to fire me from day one and I can’t lose this job because I’m stupid. It’s the last thing I’ve got, my intelligence card.

“Six,” he says, looking down from his magnifying glasses like he’s some wizard professor from Hogwarts. “This isn’t about someone liking you. You can’t please everyone. This is the business world. People aren’t going to pat you on the back for doing a piss poor job. If you want to impress Miranda you are going to have to actually do something. She isn’t going to give you a gold star for breathing.”

Oof. Entitled much, Andy?

I wouldn’t consider myself a spoiled brat by any means. Hell, I know how many couches I’ve lived on since the age of sixteen and it’s a lot, like you can’t even count them they are so high. But standing next to Nigel I feel like some entitled silver spoon licking lawyer’s daughter. Because that’s what’s on the outside still and see her every damn day in the mirror.

My mind trickles over my past, of my college days. Of Lily’s couch and yes, I know compared to Lily—I’ve been privileged just by the whiteness of my own damn skin and the name of my father, even if I can’t or won’t use it out of principle of the damn matter, because I’m not that kid, nor will I ever be. But my upbringing has afforded me something, an education I might not have otherwise. A job in fashion because of a white name and a starry-eyed innocent look. I’ve barely grazed the hardships Lily has and now I’m here asking for fucking handouts from Miranda Priestly. That woman don’t owe you a damn thing as Lily would say.

So, it’s time to make a change. If I want the job, if I want to really do this and end up in a journalist postion sometime in the next few years I’m going to have to buckle in, suck up my pride, and dive into fashion and the art of delivering the perfect latte. I have to really impress Miranda.

***

And that’s how it starts. I tap into that man, Nigel, and we play dress-up. I’ve never been able to pick my own outfits, but with him as my unicorn guide, my fantasies are set free. We have fun, discovering who the fuck is Andy this day, every day. From thigh high boots, skirts, from glam, glitz, and stomp-rocking butch. I cut my hair pixie-style and god,I love it. Like, love it-love it and I think, Nigel gets his first hint of who I really am underneath all that trying to hide it so hard and be this perfect little Andy for everyone.

“Six…” he says one day, looking over me in a tailored suit, hands in my pockets, and stilts on my feet. “If I didn’t know any better…” I wink at him and walk away, because what am I? I’m dating Nate, that’s what I’m doing, but for the first time in a long time I feel like me.

That night, he hits me and calls me a dyke. I go in the next day with big glasses, covering the butterfly bandage and bruise, telling them oh you know, clumsy Andy had a tumble off the toilet drinking too much last night.

Silly Andy. Haha. But all I hear is Dyke all day in my head, because it’s a word I’ve heard before and felt before. And I don’t wear suits again, because shit…I don’t want to think about what could happen when I’m finally getting my life put back together after so long.

I’ve already been running around town and lost ten pounds, but with a slight change in diet and working out before Nate gets home. I know I won’t ever have a perfect body—Nate assures me of that every fucking night—, but I can make the Starbucks run in time to get Miranda’s coffee piping hot and perfect.

Emily even seems impressed and jealous under that glassy Brit veneer, but everyone in Runway isn’t convinced. I’m still a chameleon putting on new colors, it’s not like I’ve really changed. Not really. I’m just changing clothes.

Miranda is taking note. I can tell by the way she looks over me and starts making more demands. She starts talking to me about fashion especially when I can’t help but snort or crack up at a concept I have no where to place. It happened a lot in the beginning when I thought I had a leg to stand on when it came to opinions, like the patriarchy and fashion, but then Miranda cut me down to size a few times and now, I realize I’m neck deep and drowning in a world that has no beginning and end.

Miranda’s whole explanation of cerulean blue in fashion shakes me to the fucking core. Like it’s legit. There’s all these layers to things and I realize I’ve been looking at fashion myopically. I’m not looking at the history, the people who influenced it, the colors, the fabrics, textures, let alone the eras and movements that affect it. I mean what is feminism, patriarchy and the gay movement within fashion? The whole thing blows my fucking mind and that’s what gets me writing for the first time since coming to New York. Fashion. Ha. Fucking Fashion is changing how I see myself.

It opens a new world of thought for me and for the first time in my life, I give a shit about it. Like not just for my job, but because this is groundbreaking stuff to me—how it all fuels into epidemics like aids, anorexia, and the fucking internet.

“Nate, just let me write down this—ow, babe—fuck—”

He bites my neck hard where he’s making out with me.

“You can write any fucking time, but you don’t have me any fucking time. Pay attention to me,” he whines and he hurts me when he squeezes and fucks me tonight. He hurts me when I put my computer away and I don’t think about all the pretty girls I’m surrounded by in the office and wish I was with one of those vapid models instead of this dick.

Right? Andy and a model that’d just be dumb. Miranda would fire me in a heartbeat dating the help. She’d beat the shit out of me, right? Everyone beats the shit out of everyone.

Scarf and glasses the next few days to help hide what Nate put behind and I remind myself that it’s a place to live. Something I don’t have right now with Lily, because even though I gave her that awesome bag—everyone is on my case about my hours and killing myself and I’m not sure I got Lily’s couch on hand if I break it off with Nate, because Nate is a fucking saint apparently and Andy is vibing Ice Queen lately because I work for the bitch on wheels.

So late at night while I’m in the office, I kick off my stilts and shoot out a few lines in a notebook between calls, emails, and arrangements. When I have to wait for the book, I have even more time. Precious time away from Nate to think, read, and write and fucking be.

For once, I feel beautiful and right in my own skin. Showing up to galas in dresses made for models. My friends don’t exactly get it. Maybe, Lily does occasionally, when it comes to some fancy designer purse, but they miss me, I think. I think that’s what it is or they think I’m drinking the cool-aid. 

They tease me about my job endlessly. Every fucking time we hang out and it usually starts with Nate. I use to let it happen because I agreed with it, but now it just feels like these personal blows. They don’t get it. They don’t get how fashion fits into all of this and me and maybe Doug does though. He at least will chat fashion and teach me the nooks and crannies I can’t get in books and becomes a back-up to my unicorn guide Nigel. 

I feel confident in a way that maybe I can actually do this job. I’m edging in and the further I get the worse it gets with Nate.

“Damn it, Andy—” he says. Grabbing my arms, he smacks my face like I’m an idiot. “You think I care about my birthday? I’m not twelve.”

“I think you do,” I say angrily at him. I try to jerk away, but he won’t let me.“How many holidays have you missed?” Thanksgiving, Christmas…the list goes on and on. What fucking relationship?

“It’s my job, Andy. I work in a kitchen. You’re a glorified secretary. It’s different.” I sputter at him. You’re a damn cook, not the queen of England.

“It’s my job too. It’s my future. I can’t just up and quit.”

“Well, I’m done. This isn’t working. I don’t even know who you are anymore. Look at you with your damn butch hair. You look like a hooker, a plastic bimbo. I thought you were smart, but all you talk about is fashion and Miranda this and Miranda that.”

“It’s my job, Nate,” I repeat, rubbing the bridge of my nose. “What do you want from me? To quit? I’ve poured in so much time and effort and I’m also there. Just a few more months and…”

“And then what? You write? Do you know how stupid you sound? You’re such an idiot. Who even makes a living writing in this town anymore, Andy? You’re so fucking naive.”

“Shut the fuck up, Nate,” I finally snap, because he crossed a line. His eyes flash open. Shit. His fists ram in my face. Pain slices though me and lightening ricochets off my brain as I stagger away from him.

“Don’t. Ever. Fucking. Tell. Me….”

“You…you…” His hands fly up to stop me, eyes livid.

“I don’t know who you are anymore. Whoever this is….” He starts to walk away. “You’re not my girlfriend. Get the fuck out of my life.”

“Nate!” I yell, feeling the panic hit me. My phone rings just as he turns around and he glares at me.

“Whoever you spend the most time with is the person you are in a relationship with,” he says. “Let me give you a fucking clue, Andy. It isn’t me.” He walks away and part of me is actually deep down inside happy about it.

I answer the phone. Fuck him. I’m not giving up my dream. Not for fucking Nate.


	2. All the Glitters is Not Gold

Lily doesn’t get it. She sees the fancy clothes, the pixie haircut, but only lets me sleep on the couch for a night, before I’m in a hotel.

“I don’t want to make this a habit, Andy,” she says as if she’s the adult in this situation and I’m this rebellious kid who keeps ending up on her couch. Maybe, she’s right. Maybe I’m really fucked up and this is an intervention. “You’re an adult now and you can’t always get what you want by sleeping on my couch. There aren’t any free rides, baby.”

Free rides? I think back to living on ramen noodles for most of my life and know…know, I can’t keep being a burden to Lily. Christ, I feel so small and stupid and pathetic around her lately. She’s out and out saying it. You’re a fucking burden, Andy. You’re a loser, get out of my life and stay out.

She takes Nate’s side before I can get some crappy apartment even farther from the office. Maybe, I should tell her about everything, but then I should have told Lily a lot of things that I never told her. I never told her why I left my parents’ house. I mean, she saw it across my face. I don’t tell her what Nate was doing to me, but it was a place to live. Some place safe to be and now what? I don’t have any place and I’m fucking alone again, now—for what? For Runway? For Miranda Priestly—

The only woman in my whole world that has things right. Miranda fucking Priestly has the guy, the family, the job, and she isn’t afraid of anyone. She lays it out and there it is. There’s Miranda Priestly on page six. There she is in her Mercedes, with a fucking driver. I’ve seen the inside of her townhouse and it’s perfect. I want to be Miranda Priestly. She’s the hottest woman alive. 

She’s officially on my list of if I’m in a relationship I’d totally do her. Because it’s Miranda fucking Priestly and who cares if I’m in the closet working in fashion and I just broke up with my boyfriend.

Be like Miranda.

****

I’m wearing out, but if this is the time to kill it, this is the time. I only have one opportunity to kick start my life. It needs a resuscitation stat. Five shot expresso right here. I’d better do it now when I’m good and able to do it.

I cut corners to survive. I only eat what’s in the office. They’ve got the monkey bar there and coffee bar and occasionally people will just leave stuff there. Clothes, I borrow from the closet, so that’s taken care of. I’m fitting into things a lot smaller than a six these days and even Emily is jealous. The important thing is getting the coffee on said desk before Miranda arrives and making sure it’s hot.

Makeup over food. I can also nab free samples at the office too, so not all of my non-existent food budget is for make-up. My writing stalls a bit in the weeks before Paris, because it’s all a bit hectic.

Miranda is finally impressed with me and naturally she wants me to break the news that I’m taking the trip from Emily. The God-of-the-office has spoken and there’s no way in hell I’m going to pass this up when I’ve worked my ass for it, so it’s way easier than I think it will be when Emily walks in the next morning. I’m channelling the Priestly when:

“Em…” I say. “I’m going to Paris instead.” So get over it, quietly, in a corner somewhere and totally away from Miranda so you don’t get fired, because that would suck if you had a melt down. Which is theoretically possible and terrifying, maybe I should have I done this more empathetic-like. “Miranda asked me to tell you.” The last sentence comes out more like Mirandaskmetotellyouorsoemthing.

Emily stares at me for a long moment, like a really long time. Enough that I’m concerned for her mental well-being. Then, her whole body deflates like a balloon and I imagine her in this puddle on the ground that says:

“Fuck.”

Then, she walks to her desk.

“I hate my job.”

So that’s the end of whatever play friendship I had with my fellow prisoner of the desk situation. Now, I’m the American Bitch and she’s just the sad Brit. 

We don’t say another word to each other until she ends up in the hospital with a broken leg. I try to apologize for reals, because I did make the decision on some level to go to Paris and I need to own it but Emily gives me this don’t be an idiot Andy look.

“Don’t. Even. I wouldn’t,” she says. “This job isn’t about apologies and friends and puppies or whatever you think it is about. I don’t even know why you’re here. You have to get ready for fuckin’ Paris. If you mess this up, I swear I will literally destroy every part of your life. I will make sure Miranda will blacklist you from every magazine in the whole entire universe, so you better make Paris happen perfectly and I mean, perfectly, Andy or there will be hell to pay. Understood?”

_Shit._

That girl is Miranda Priestly incarnate and rocks it. She’s so hot. I want to be her or kiss her, but that would be weird. So I nod, thumbs up my way out of the room, and hit the ground running, because I don’t want to eat the ire of desk assistant numero uno on top of Miranda Priestly, said goddess. 

Honestly, Em doesn’t need me anyway. Her best office buddy is Serena and she will totally help her in a pinch.

No one needs little ole me, except Miranda fucking Priestly.

***  
So Paris is an epiphany, a life reckoning of sorts for me. In Paris, I’m still Andy, but I’m not Andy Sachs. I’m just Miranda’s assistant for one, but I’m also free of a lot of things.

I can just be me. For once, I just loosen up about looking at girls. I’m surrounded by models anyway. I don’t fret about wearing the tailored suits that I love to wear. I still put on a dress or two to get Miranda to do that double-take thing she does that I like, because making Miranda-the-fucking-goddess double-take is my favorite thing to do in the world. If she wasn’t married—

But I’m free, so since I don’t feel confident to score a chick and Christian is still flirting the daylights out of me, I let him and it seems fun like in a theoretical sense where things should be fun, but they aren’t. Like the whole trip to Paris, should be like amazing fun, but it’s actually a lot of hard work and then it all kind of hits the fan when I drop off some boxes at Miranda’s awesome suite hotel room, cuz you know I’m awesome like that. I’m cruising out and I find her on the couch and she’s sitting there looking like I’ve never seen her before. 

Aka, my Miranda Priestly, goddess and hero of my life is wrapped up in this grey bathrobe, eyes red, and she looks so tiny and I think what’s happened? Like where’s the fire and what did I do? Am I getting fired, fired for real this time? Is she going to kill me?

“Andrea,” she says and she actually pauses and looks at a lost for words. I don’t have any place to put this woman. Is this even the same woman? She waves to a seat across from her and I plop down, issuing a rolling of the eyes from her, because I’m my usual clumsy self and have no ounce of grace whatsoever and she finds that disturbing on a soul deep level. “We need to deal with the seating arrangement for the luncheon.”

“Oh, right…um, okay, who do I need to kill?” I slip. “I mean, change…Not myself, I hope, because if I made a mistake—”

“You didn’t,” Miranda cuts me off before I can get revved with a pathetic laugh. “Stephen is divorcing me.” My jaw literally drops open. What? Like seriously. What sort of man baby is he to break up with Miranda during her Paris trip, like the biggest event of her whole year and that bastard…

“I know a hit man, or I can find a hit man…seriously,” I say, because I don’t know what to say. “I’m sorry, Miranda. I can sit next to you if you want, I mean that would be stupid, but—” I see the hint of an amused your being silly and stupid smile, but all the same it looks better than that sadness that I never want to see in her eyes again, because that jerk never deserved her. 

“No, no…it’s better if it’s Snoop Dog, my girls want an autograph, but…I appreciate the offer, Andrea…truly.” I start to stand awkwardly, because that’s almost a little bit too much niceness for me from her. We don’t usually do niceness and personal chats like this. She’s lost in thought again, glasses in hand and she looks so strangely, piercingly beautiful that it hurts something in my heart region and I know I better go before I do something really, really stupid.

“Oh, yeah, I’ll take care of it, of course, Miranda.” I start to walk toward the door, because there is obviously nothing else, but I stop before I slip out, because part of me hates to leave her like this, but Andy doesn’t have a place in Miranda’s life no matter how much I’ve secretly fantasized about it.

“Miranda?”

“Yes, Andrea.”

“He doesn’t deserve you.” I close the door behind me, because truer words couldn’t have been spoken, because Miranda is a goddess and no one deserves her. And I wish to god that man had never entered her life and it sucks.

It sucks so bad that men can hurt women this bad, even powerful women like Miranda and I hate it, because if she can hurt like that where does that leave me? Little ole Andy? There isn’t a hope in the world for me finding something real out there if Miranda can’t.

So, I go to my empty hotel room, get this text from Christian and decide to fuck him, because life sucks in that arena of my life anyway and sucks in general.

It doesn’t fix anything, because who knew fucking guys doesn’t fix things. So, I come to the conclusion that I should have come to years ago and swear off men forever and good. Because men are douchebags and you can’t date the liking of women out of yourself by dating and fucking men. Oof, that was a sucky lesson to learn. And they say you’re smart, Andy.

So the only positive that seems like a positive about the whole fucking Christian thing is the fact that I find out about Irv’s ploy to fire The Priestly. So I spend, literally every second of the rest of the trip, trying to tell Miranda this huge secret to save her skin and she literally closes about ten doors in my face and walks away from me on six and half occasions. Which drives me insane, because you know it’s a reminder that I’m just a fucking second assistant in fucking Paris and no one even gives a shit what I have to say really, because I’m a nobody.

I’m going nuts. Everyone knows I’m going nuts. Nigel knows it and takes me aside, but the thing where they get up on stage and talk is freaking started already and I realize too late that I probably should have just told him, because Miranda would have listened to him and now I’ve royally fucked everything up, but at least, Nigel will be happy, right?

I can’t help but love Miranda even more on stage, because just like two nights ago she was bawling her eyes out because Stephen’s divorcing her. God, that jerk doesn’t deserve her. I can only imagine the litany of excuses he poured out on her head for not having enough time with her. She runs a magazine and has a family. Like how do people even have time anyway? What sort of man baby was he to break up with the ice queen herself? Miranda didn’t deserve that though. She didn’t deserve a break-up on the Paris trip, fucking Paris. Right in the hornet’s nest of high tide, the bastard had great timing.

So there she is perfect. Every hair in place, every stroke of makeup perfect and that beaming smile as her empire comes crashing down, but it doesn’t somehow. Miranda artfully and politically moves herself into the safest position and my jaw drops, because woah I didn’t see that from a mile away. Probably because I was running around like a stupid chicken with my head cut off.

It’s not like I don’t see the cost. Nigel doesn’t get ahead and Miranda crushes him like that. A little fly in her soup and her most loyal comrade is out to float, but she’s safe. She’s okay and it’s masterfully done like an artist and all Irv can do is sputter like a moron. Props to Miranda that’s for heckin’ sure.

Miranda one thousand, Irv zero.

“You have to make a choice,” Miranda says later in her car as we drive to the gala. She’s parting pearls of wisdom after her victory dance on Irv’s dying and twitching body. “You’ve been making choices all year, but I don’t think you’ve realized you’ve been making them.”

I know she’s right. I’ve just been letting myself be tossed around by the waves of Miranda Priestly.

“I see a lot of myself in you,” Miranda says and at this moment, I’m not sure if I should be honored or insulted. Miranda Priestly is the greatest human being alive, but she’s also the most ruthless and I’m not sure if I’m the most ruthless person. At least not intentionally. Maybe I am and I don’t know it? Is that what she’s saying?

“I’m not like you….I don’t think I could have done what you did to Nigel,” I say, because I’m really confused.

“Oh, you did,” Miranda says as if it’s obvious and she takes a little pleasure in what she’s saying. “To Emily with this trip.” Touché.

“You asked me to come.”

“You didn’t have too. You make your own decisions, Andrea. You have come so far in your position, especially considering where you began, but I think if you are ever going to get ahead in life you are going to have to come to terms with the fact that you are ultimately the captain of your own ship. You make your own decisions every single day and much like myself, we must live with the consequences of our actions. What those consequences are though…those we may even be able to shape with enough planning and foresight.”

I wonder what she means by that and watch as she leaves the car to enter the next part of the show. I follow after her numbly. 

I think about all the decisions it took to get me here. How many latte orders, how many bags put up, and how many nights I missed with Nate. Decisions that I made to keep going. I know Christian was a mistake. It’s like bold letters across my forehead, but I don’t care right now. 

In the building, the world swirls and I stagger just a little. Someone catches my elbow and the firm weight of something real guides to stronger ground.

“Hey, Six,” Nigel says in that kind, doting voice of his. I wonder what sort of words of wisdom he will be passing along today much like the Priestly. “You’re not looking good. Let’s get you sit down.” Hm…not what I was expecting.

He helps me to a quiet area and finds a chair before kneeling down beside me. It’s quite comical looking down at him in his dapper little suit. “You made it through Paris. That’s a big step.” I blink at him blearily. “When was the last time you ate?” I shake my head, because I’m honestly not sure.

He tsks and goes to acquire some meats and cheeses for me to pick at and a glass of water.

“Here, baby girl,” he says quietly and I blink at him again. He’s never called me that before. He gives me a hint of a sad smile. “Don’t let it eat you. I’ve known Miranda for years. She doesn’t destroy people she trusts. I trust her, but that isn’t what this is about, is it? What’s going on? You can’t kill yourself over this job. You’ve got to eat and drink. You don’t have to have a life, but you got to eat with all the running you do, Six. You’re not a model.”

“I just forget,” I admit sheepishly and rub the back of my neck. “It’s been so busy. I feel better thanks…I just…I don’t know if I want to be like her.” Everything is all jumbled up in my head and I’m sure he doesn’t have an inkling of what I’m talking about.

“Who says you’re like Miranda?” he asks.

“She said it in the car…that she sees a lot of herself in me.”

He smiles gently.

“When she was younger. No, Miranda wants you to become something different, not a fashion icon. She knows that isn’t your dream. Christ, we all know you want to be a journalist and you really rocked it this week. I promise things will start shaking up again in a few months. She’ll promote Emily and start shifting people in the office and that means you too.”

“What?”

“Well, no one stays in the assistant position for longer than a year, year and half tops,” he says with a shrug. “Miranda looks out for her own, but she has to be safe to do that.” Oh right. “I don’t always get it myself, but she’s brilliant. It’s going to be okay. I’m going to put in a word for you to get a weekend off after this, because you deserve it and Christ, do you need it!”

I still don’t get it. I must not be feeling that great after all, so that evening I curl up alone in bed and drink everything out of a vodka bottle, because that makes a lot more sense than the world does.


	3. Resuscitation of Said Life Or Serendipitous Friendships

When we get back, Nigel’s right. Who would have thunk it. Maybe, the guy gets Miranda better than me and everyone else, especially when the cards are on the table. He is my magical unicorn guru, maybe I should actually listen to him once in a while instead of thinking I know what I’m doing, because I don’t.

The shifts in the office aren’t exactly dramatic, but Emily is promoted to the production coordinator for the photoshoots which means she’s traveling a lot more in the city, all over the country, and even the world on a regular basis.

Nigel is in talks with Miranda with taking over a vp editor position at Runway—like she’s literally making a position for him under her to help oversee the vision of Runway. And I think he’s totally okay with that, because deep down inside him leaving Runway would take away one of the major cogs of the creative soul of this place. Miranda and him are the soul animals and it wouldn’t be the same without them and she knows that. Now, that she’s almost lost him, she’s willing to bend over backwards to keep him where he belongs. Here. At Runway. And that makes me happy, because Nigel is Nigel and I don’t know if this place would be the same without him.

And well me, I’m pre-interviewing a second assistant, because I’m the new first assistant plus small-tiny raise—yay me! That I’m debating on buying more coffee with or an actual work outfit that I own, because my duffle of clothes has been banned from the world and should be burned.

“Andrea…” Miranda calls from her office. Sighing, I stand up from my new desk, aka Emily’s old desk, and make chop-chop to Miranda’s office, because moving at a glacial pace oh, so thrills the boss-lady.

“Yes, Miranda?” I reply, with a lifted eyebrow. I wasn’t expecting a call from her as I’ve got my hands full with the girls coming in later and prepping decent questions for them. Miranda looks at me from over her glasses.

I wish I could take a picture of her like that, because damn woman, my heart flutters and I wish, wish wish, I could steal that moment forever. I’d probably stick it in my wallet or make it my computer screen background or in my latest notebook…

“How is the job interviewing going?” Oh. Yeah right. I’m not here to stare at Miranda Priestly like a lovesick puppy.

“No one decent yet, but I’ve got five girls coming in today,” I admit with a shrug. Play it cool for her. “They all have some fashion background but also some education in media.” I’m not expecting her to be listening at this point, but Miranda nods twice. Sweet, approval never looked so fine.

“I want you to interview for a third assistant.” Wait. What?

“A third assistant.” I repeat after her, because I don’t even know the words that have come out of her mouth.

“Are you hard of hearing?” Miranda ask slowly as if I’m stupid. “Like second assistant, but third. I have read some of your recent work and I want you to start writing with my staff on a preliminary basis. I do not want this affecting your job too much, but I hope once we get the two girls trained we can find a suitable place for you at Runway or in Elias-Clark Publications. That will be all.”

_Shit._

I walk out of the office, because I’ve been dismissed. My brain is reeling. This is it. My hands are shaking. I sit down at my desk, my new temporary desk, and put my hands on my head. I’m fucking here. I’ve made it to the end of the gauntlet.

***

An email bings up within the hour with Gloria’s writing crew. Gloria’s head of the team of staff writers for Runway. They do all the interviews, articles, blogs, and everything and I’m going to talk to her in real life soonish about writing things for her and her people for the magazine. And I don’t even know how not to freak out about that on so many different levels. They are going to start training me after I get the assistants in place. 

So that’s what I have to do. The five girls I see that day are a mixed bag. One would be a great assistant and two are like so-so, but I think for a third assistant getting a so-so hire can’t be that bad. That’s how we end up with Kyra and Alex. 

Miranda looks at me like I’m crazy, because Kyra looks like a model and Alex is totally gay butch, but stylish butch. They both get fashion way more than I ever did and also totally understand that they need to bend over backwards for Miranda. She’ll be happy—I think—as long as Kyra and Alex decide to live up to their promises.

Training isn’t bad. I find that I actually like it. Emily never really trained me, more like dumped me into the fires of hell and back, so I spend some time actually coaxing the girls through coffee orders and I do a little dance when they know a name of some guy that I had no idea about a year ago. 

Things are going so well, I actually get to sit down in Gloria’s magical round table of writers minus the writers and just beautiful Gloria. She’s this no-nonsense looking kind of woman with long brown hair, tucked behind her shoulder and she looks like she knows what she’s talking about in her svelte business outfit. Beaming at me like I’m a new t-bone steak to eat, she gives me my first assignment. 

I’m so excited, I’m practically drooling over it even though it’s like the lamest piece over some boring photoshoot that Emily is overseeing with no-name models over some no-name brand but it’s everything. It’s everything because for the first time in my life my words end up in a real magazine. Not just any magazine, but Runway, and it’s surreal.

***

My personal life has been non-existent since the break-up. Quite literally, the only socialization has been a gradual up-tick in the time I spend with the Miranda Priestly’s daughters. Don’t even. Let’s just say that all started with an impossible manuscript that saved my job and proved how much I’d do to keep it.

So, from that moment on, Miranda has used me as her go-to gal for tutoring and coming up with gifts. So I’ve been getting to know said girls which is no easy feat, considering what a mother bear Miranda is with them—which is totally understandable. I mean Miranda is ridiculously famous in the fashion world and who wants to dump their girls to the wolves of the media? So, I totally get that they are precious and need to have a normal life, because that’s the right thing to do.

She’s especially protective of Caroline, who lives with Down Syndrome. Her twin, Cassidy, doesn’t have Down Syndrome. I don’t know how that works. I suspect it’s incredibly rare and probably had to do with some fertility treatment gone awry. The girls actually don’t mind me, or at least they’ve gotten use to me. 

For some reason, they think I’m different from the other assistants. Even going so far to saying I actually help with their homework, give a crap about what they think, and like their mom despite whatever lies page six is pandering for the day.

Since the divorce, Miranda has loosened up with me around them, because they need the attention or at least so she says. Emily thinks I’m daft, of course, spending time with the girls and a total brown-nosing poser, but seriously she doesn’t know how lonely I get for actual human contact.

The kind that actually cares about what you say and thinks you are a legitimate human being. Anyway, it’s neat to see Caroline, shy Caroline, take pride in getting a better grade in writing or her eyes light up as glitter dances across a solar system mock-up. It makes it all worth it in the end and fuck anyone who doesn’t get it, because this is probably the best thing in my life right now.

Cassidy says Caroline has it rough at school despite everything she does to help out. Cassidy is popular, a soccer player and like a pure genius with anything regarding math. She loves helping Caroline too.

Frankly, Cassidy is like one of the super-secret teenage superheroes, people don’t talk about because they think they don’t exist. Caroline is totally her sidekick, but with that she proverbially lives in Cassidy’s shadow. Caroline assists the soccer team to be near her sister and root for her, because that’s Caroline for you, but that’s as far as her extra-curricular activities go. She’d much rather stay home, playing on the computer and taking photos.

Caroline’s room is a menagerie of photos—all kinds nicely printed out and strung up on thread with tiny artsy clothespins and hung with speciality lights. Some are like those old polaroids, sepias, and black and whites and it’s this amazing thing in itself just looking at it, but she does this great work. This mind-blowing soul deep portrait of people and normal things. It’s totally obvious she gets her skills from her Mom.

So, I do what Andy does and goes exploring. Then, one night I go to Miranda about getting Caroline into a few photography groups, because there are like a billion in New York ranging from those that take only kids with disabilities, some specifically are for kids living with Down syndrome or just plain ones. So I give her a handful of applications to look at on her desk.

“What’s this? Your daughter is talented. If you want her to get into the best colleges she needs to be thinking about how to round out her abilities and get her application to pop,” I say, feeling more confident about this one thing than I have about anything ever.

Miranda purses her lips. My insides do a flip-flop and shrivel up, because this could go sideways fast.

Like she could ream me from one side of Manhattan to the other or sing praises into the night for actually caring. There’s no telling—when it comes to Caroline. Miranda looks over the different activities with a critical eyes as if she’s examining the newest line from Victoria Beckham.

“Maybe, Maybe, No, definitely not. This one. Ask her about it…” Miranda says and frowns suddenly. “I don’t think she will go on her own…”

“I could go with her?” I offer, because I would. Because Caroline is amazing and I think she might be the only person who gets me, but I can’t say that, because that’s stupid and I’m an adult. I don’t need some kid to feel like a human being, but can we just say that it’s a mutually beneficial friendship in one of the most serendipitous, glorious ways that never happen in real life. But for some reason it has and I would do absolutely anything for this kid, because she’s the greatest. “I don’t mind taking pictures.”

“You’d….go with her? Can I pay you something?” Miranda asks, looking confused, but maybe even a little pleased. “A babysitter’s fee.”

“No, absolutely not,” I say with a firm shake of my head. I’m surprised Miranda would even think about offering to pay me to hang out with Caroline. She’s already got an au pair. Caroline doesn’t need a baby sitter. “I’m her friend. I don’t want her to think you pay me to be her friend.”

Miranda’s eyebrow shoots up and I think I’ve really screwed this up by saying the word _friend_. Because what normal adult would be friends with Caroline, but doesn’t she know that her daughter is this amazing and special human being? If anyone should know—it should be Miranda, because she birthed this kid, raised her and of course, the kid is stunning, because she was birthed from the loins of a goddess.

“Please? I think this will be good for her.” And I mean it with every fiber of my being.

Miranda nods and puts down the applications for the groups. The nightline of the city behind her in her corner office catches my eyes, because as usual she makes it ten times better just by being present. Her eyes red and tired from a hard day’s work, but there is something softening in her face tonight that rarely comes out except around those precious girls.

“Why do you care, Andrea?” she asks in a tiny vulnerable voice. A voice I haven’t heard since Stephen told her about the divorce.

I suppose that’s a fair question and Miranda’s not asking defensively. No, instead there’s a gentle curiosity and a desperate fear that I’m going to say something hurtful. I can’t help but wonder myself so I start talking to figure it out. I usually can always stumble on some sort of truth that way and maybe, maybe—I won’t stick my foot into it like I always do.

“I think it’s just an accident, Miranda,” I admit with a shrug. “I never meant too, but with the Harry Potter manuscript and the girls reaching out and with helping with their homework. I know the tricks of the trade to get into colleges and I know what it is to not always have a voice speaking up for you and I don’t want Caroline to fall behind just because she’s quiet. She has a lot to learn and I think she’s going to do great things. She’s got your eye for design and she’s a whiz on Lightroom, Luminar, Photoshop—whatever, I’ve seen it with my own eyes. I think you got two kids who will go places. Cassidy has everything in her backpocket, but if we’re not careful…people will look at Caroline and think she’s dumb and she’s not. She’s brilliant, creative, and this amazing young woman. She’s just shy.”

I’m nearly out of breath with that spiel and I realize that this is probably the most I’ve ever said to Miranda Priestly in one go. My insides curl up again ready for her to go nuts on me for being an idiot, but she asked for it, right?

Miranda is looking at me as if I’ve grown three arms and a tentacle. Then, a single tear drips down her cheek as she quickly turns away, grabs a Kleenex, and wipes it away.

My heart stutters to a stop in my chest.

“Miranda…I’m sorry if I over-stepped,” I breathe, because that would be bad, but Miranda lifts her hand.

“No, no…no one has ever advocated for my daughter so passionately that was not outside of certain…circles. They do not understand her, not like…not like we do. Thank you, Andrea. Please…”

She turns around, her composure set again of the finest of porcelain statues.

“Please take her to these clubs. I’ll give you the time off, no dock in pay and no one will bother you. This is important for her. I want her to become more confident. She has so much to compete with her sister, Cassidy, and I want her to be happy and fulfilled in life.”

“I think that’s all any of us can ask for,” I say quietly. “I’m writing an article for Reader’s Digest you might like. I’ll send it your way if you’re interested.”

Did I just do that? Like make conversation with Priestly outside of work and the girls? It’s connected I try to convince myself. Miranda’s demeanor completely changes and not in a good way.

“Do you want an opinion?” She sounds defensive.

_Shit._

“No, I mean yes…your opinion matters to me, a lot, seriously, but I honestly…I think you’ll appreciate the theme.” Her eyes flick to amusement melting away the walls that she had thrown up on me and I find myself relaxing again.

“Yes, send it to me when you are ready. That is all.” She waves me out of her office.

I step out, closing the door, and fist pump it because that went insanely well. Way better than I thought it would and maybe, maybe things are turning around.


	4. Maybe All Them Bridges Aren't Burnt

About a few months into the photography club meetings and extra graphic design classes, I decide to ring up Lily to show her some of Caroline’s work over coffee. Because, I miss my friend and I don’t want this to be forever over-over because of some stupid guy. So, this is me throwing out a line for her to come back. We haven’t talked in ages, so I’m not even sure how this is going to work.

The last time we talked face-to-face was when Lily had a melt down while I was flirting with Christian at the art gallery thing. Not exactly one of my finer moments I must admit, considering at the time I was still dating Nate. So I was basically being a hoe and she knew it and called me out on it. I know I’m not in the clear, but I should be allowed to break up with whoever I want, because she has to learn how to trust me. If she can’t do that, then this friendship isn’t going to be salvageable.

“Hey, kid,” Lily says and plops down, still using the blue bag I snagged for her six months ago…so maybe, that’s a good sign I’m out of the dog house. Or let’s be honest, Lily’s a pragmatist and she’s going to send myself packing and keep said bag even though our lifetime friendship is over.

“Hey, I um…it’s good to see you, Lily. I’ve missed you…and Doug.” But not Nate. Never Nate, because he’s a dick and hurts me.

“Yeah, we’ve missed you too. God, I’ve been such an idiot. I’m sorry.” Lily stands up and gives me a bear hug. And that’s when this slinky inside of me decides to unravel. I didn’t even know I was all wound up until she said that but suddenly I just want to cry, because I have my friend back and I’d totally lost her. “You’d think I give up being dumb about guys and your life, but you’re always right, Andy. Look at you, writing for the magazines and paying your dues. I had no idea that Nate was trying to get you to quit it all. I just thought he wanted you to quit working for the Ice Queen.”

“Yeah, it was rough,” I admit with a shrug, looking away. All the other things just kind of get stuck in my chest like they always do with Lily. It’s not like we ever talk about things. About what people have done to me and how they hurt me. It’s just enough that she’s here now and she’s back. My eyes drift to my drink as I mess with the napkin. “But it’s over now. Do you think…you can put up with me again?”

Lily blows out a huge breath of air. And I think, here it comes. I wince a little, expecting the worse.

“Do you think you can put up with me? Damn it, I had to pay my dues too…maybe not to the Dragon lady, but…I’m such an idiot. Did Nate hurt you?” Don’t ask that, Lily.

“No…,” I lie out right to her, because my throat clamps shut like a vice and I don’t talk about that shit. “It’s just we wanted different things in the end.” There. Lie accomplished. To said best friend and she looks at me hard, and for a second I think she’s going to push it for once.

Who cares if Nate really did do a number on me? That I still look at myself in the mirror and hate what I see. I still look at my writing and think I can’t cut it and maybe I should give up, fly to Boston and be his little housewife. It would definitely be a lot safer. I’ve got no safety net here in New York, no friends unless Lily and Doug take me back, but I’m not sure. I’m not sure about anything anymore, because if your best friend can walk out on you because of some douchebag. Then, how the hell are you supposed to know these things?

Lily reaches out and takes my hand, squeezing it.

“I’m not leaving again. I know the business is rough. I’m proud of you. I never thought…you’d have the backbone for it, honest? You were so quiet in high school and college. And now, I guess it’s good you’ve got Miranda Priestly as a mentor.”

“Mentor?” I laugh at the thought, but thinking back over the last year or so, Lily’s right. I’m not the same person. Miranda, Nigel, and even Emily in her own way have been mentoring me on what it takes to make a life in New York work, to live the dream.

“What else would you call her?”

“No, you’re right. It’s just we don’t always talk about things. She just…she does it so naturally or like dices me up into little pieces. Sheers me right back down to size when my ego gets too big,” I say with a laugh. Lily laughs with me at that and it feels good. I use to make them laugh, witty, silly Andy.

“So dating anyone new?” Lily asks, because it’s Lily. Rolling my eyes, I shake my head.

“I don’t really have time and…well,” I say with a shrug. “I’m not sure I’m ready. I got to figure out what I want.” But the truth is I’ve figured it out just not the logistics of having a relationship with a woman.

“Anything fun?”

“No, but I’ve had a few drunken tumbles, not successful in my opinion. Just one night stands,” I say, of the both varieties. “Just to take the edge off.” Lily nods and I know she’s not expecting that.

“I’m dating this girl, Gretch. I think you’d like her. She’s a smart ass, but a hottie,” Lily says with a pleasant smile. Oh, like I didn’t even know you swung seriously that way, Lily. I mean she experimented like once in college and it was like this big secret deal that I had found out about and then we just never talked about it again. “She’s in real estate, but loves art. Met her at show.”

We end up talking about Gretch until Caroline’s pictures show up and Lily is impressed. She doesn’t offer a show obviously, but she offers some contacts, tutors, and classes to help the burgeoning artist.

“So the thing is, Lily, is that she lives with Down syndrome.”

“Oh, well that might make it more profitable to an art gallery later down the road. I think she has potential. You just got to get her to dig deep or go commercial. She has the ability for a both.”

I’m satisfied with that. And I’m satisfied with the meeting with Lily. I mean I learned a lot. That I have a friend still and that my friend is like seriously gay. My best friend of all my life who talked about girls but never talked about actually living with one and marrying one. Soon I’m meeting with Doug, Lily, and Gretch on the regular on top of my meetings with Caroline.

Then, this thing happens at the office and next thing I know it’s pretty on the regular that I’m hanging out with Emily, Nigel, and Serena at parties or bars after-hours. I’m no longer this bottom dweller at Runway, but an actual employee that hangs out with writers and people that work in the office. 

As I sit in my terrible apartment one night for the first time alone in ages, I realize that maybe things are okay-okay. Not like the way I pictured it getting fixed like with Nate, but maybe there’s this whole new way of just being Andy, writer at the office and having a life.

God, I might even actually be happy as I lie here completely exhausted and wasted, grinning at myself like an idiot. Maybe this is the life.


	5. The Worst Coming Out Story Ever

Two years later, I’m still living the high life at Elias-Clark Publication, but not directly under Miranda or anyone at Runway. I’m officially a freelance writer for the publication, jumping from magazine to magazine: writing articles, doing interviews, and traveling. I’ve even scored a tiny piece in Time magazine, small and in the back, but still. It’s there if you squint hard enough. I’m building a portfolio, like a real one that writer’s have.

My fashion sense has settled down too now that I don’t live vicariously out of the Closet and my high school dream of being whoever the hell I want for the day. I’m not frumpy that’s for sure, but I’m a little more muted. Edgy, modern, and leather are my three main meals when it comes to fashion. A good pair of tailored slacks, a fitted leather jacket, and boots opposed to the stilts. Miranda despises my boots, but you can’t please everyone. Down with the system as they say.

My private life hasn’t changed much other than meeting with Miranda about once a month to catch up on our respective jobs and ask her advice. That was weirdly normal when it first started, but after like six months of not actually talking to each other once and stumbling in on her working in her office at the townhouse with Caroline, we just got to talking about work, life, and shooting the breeze.

We totally lost track of the time and it was like midnight. When I stumbled out of the townhouse, I was slightly buzzy from good liquor. Miranda is a brilliant woman and I’m just bewildered she even catches me the next month, literally grabs my arm, before I slip away after some meeting with Caroline and says:

“I want to hear about everything, Andrea.” And for the first time Andrea tastes like she’s tried some exotic wine she wasn’t expecting to like and it turns out she loves it and wants to buy out the whole property so she can’t share the flavor with anyone but herself.

Okay, maybe not that much, but really she drags me into the little study where I pour out my little heart to her on a platter about normal things, of course. Then, I curl up all comfortable with this cashmere throw on her comfy couch to hear her exploits at Runway and in the city, because she’s Miranda and every story has this sense of legend plastered across it, because she’s a walking comic book in real life where she’s larger than life.

Every meeting Miranda is comfortable, no matter what is happening and it’s like our lives have a soundtrack to some smooth jazz thing she has playing on the high-def stereo and it’s just right and I never thought I’d have a friendship like this, with this woman, because everything with real people is work unless it’s Caroline, but not with her.

Not with Miranda, because I’ve found when she’s nearby the never ending buzz in my head lessens and I can hear what she is saying and just what she is saying, because it’s Miranda and she demands everything. For once it’s something I can give her like a little bouquet of Lilies: here’s all my attention, because you deserve it.

I’ve catalogued the laughs of La Priestly. There’s a gentle river flowing chuckle that she hides behind her hand. Or this surprised thing that pops out like a big Ha! It belies everything that is Miranda Priestly, because usually she’s this soft-spoken person with a hard edge. The best is when there’s the full body laugh that literally shakes her whole body and she throws back her head and she just let’s it all go

It has to be super late at night and the prerequisite is at least two drinks of the fine stuff, and I have to be extra charming for that to happen, but I treasure that one the most, because Miranda Priestly doesn’t laugh enough in life. I want to make it my life’s goal to make that woman laugh and smile more and maybe even giggle once in her life. Because she doesn’t do near enough of the above and if anyone deserves more of everything good in life, it’s Miranda Priestly.

You know add that to my bucket list:

Andy’s bucket List of Life:

1\. Whatever the hell freedom is: I want it. I want to live, love, and work doing what I want.

2\. I want to be a journalist, aka writer: I want to share other’s stories. Those who can’t share themselves, because I’ve been there done that and it sucks.

3\. Make Miranda La Priestly laugh more, because that smile is heart-stoppingly worth it. Damn, that woman will kill me one day.

_Pay your dues. Adulting sucks._

Mostly we meet after the classes and club meet-ups with Caroline, but if our schedules are too hectic, she even invites me to her office at Runway for a quick lunch or even the occasional brunch at her favorite place Brunch-it.

I can’t help but consider her as my official mentor on how to kick ass and take no hostages in life. I don’t see Miranda much outside of that other than when I’m with the girls, but it’s fast becoming my favorite time of the month. The girls are getting older, talking more about college and at sixteen, boys. I don’t give them any advice about that. We all know what a screw up I’m in that area, so I tell them their mom is the best for that. Cassidy just rolls her eyes at me and Caroline laughs, a laugh that reminds me of La Priestly and I smile.

Caroline and me are thick as thieves still when it comes to photography. I’m happy to say she’s much more confident in her own appearance and artistry. The girl just rocks about whatever she wears now and she doesn’t always feel like she has to dress like Cassidy to be cool. She does her own thing now which I totally promote and even has her own friends at the school she goes too who love photography and graphic design. She talks about working for her mom at Runway and Miranda does nothing but beam at her over the dinner table the few times I’ve been asked to stay after a meeting or a hang-out.

Lily and Gretch are still a thing. Lily and I had this long talk about things one time at a bar. She was really pushing to get me to date some sketchy dude who was flirting me from afar, but then Gretch looks between us like we’re idiots.

“Don’t you even know your girl bats for the other team?” Gretch demands and Lily almost falls out of her seat, because I guess I’ve never said it in so many words to her and it’s not like I’ve ever gone out of my way to hook-up with some dame when I’m out with them. It’s not how I roll with Lily, but then I see Lily looking at me all hurt—like really hurt—and I realize maybe I screwed this up big time.

“Lily…” I start.

“Andy…I thought you were out…I’m sorry,” Gretch suddenly says. “I can’t believe…you didn’t know?”

“How did you know?” Lily demands looking to Gretch like she’s the traitor in this story and I wince. Gretch waves her hand toward me in my edgy outfit and shrugs as if it’s obvious that I’m out and out gay.

“She doesn’t date men and she’s damn fine looking and I’ve seen her looking at the women in the bar with us. I mean, last week she was flirting with the waitress, honey,” Gretch says as if it’s obvious. “How can you not know? She’s your best friend!”

“Lily, I’m sorry. It’s just I’ve never actually said the words out loud, you know…and it’s like who does that anyway? I mean, you know how it was back home…” I say and give her this desperate look. “I didn’t mean…not like this. I don’t know what I was thinking.”

“Well, then tell me. Be the first person you tell,” Lily says, sucking in her cheeks and nodding fiercely as if this will make up for everything unsaid between us and we can go back to being friends. “I mean, if you want…” Suddenly, she looks worried and I grab her hands and squeeze them.

“Yeah…shit, Lily…I think I’m gay,” I blurt out as fast as I can and I feel wetness around my eyes and think, god, you’re such a dork. I never thought I’d say those words out loud and not get the shit beat out of me. Then, she jumps up and I reflexively flinch away before she hugs me in her quintessentially bear hug.

“You think? Oh, baby girl, you are gay,” she says and she sounds so happy for me and she’s back to being my friend and not acting like a wounded panther and that makes me relax a little, but I just feel so wound even when she let’s me go and Gretch is looking at me like she’s holding a secret and I don’t know what to do about that except slam my drink down faster.

Outside, I light a cigarette. I don’t smoke a lot, but I find it takes the edge off my nerves a bit when the sun goes down. Gretch catches my elbow and squeezes it gently.

“Andy…I wanted to apologize again. It wasn’t my place to out you like that and I’m sorry,” she says and she means it, so I shrug and nod, because I don’t really want company. “You don’t tell Lily a lot do you?” I shrug again and frown.

“You know…um, we’ve been friends a long time and we’re good friends. I’d die for that gal, but we don’t really talk about stuff, you know…” I shrug. “It’s not that kind of friendship.” Gretch nods and gives a half smile.

“Yeah, yeah, I got that. You two would do anything for each other if you could, but you can’t just keep all that shit inside Andy. It’s going to eat you alive and you may not like the person it makes you, you know? And just because you’ve never talked to Lily about stuff, doesn’t mean you can’t start. She’s a good friend…really.”

I look at her, nod, because it’s easy to be standing on the outside of the storm and say how easy it is to hold onto a tree or rock when the waves or the winds are beating at you, but you aren’t the one living with it. You’re not the one with the concussion, fighting to keep your knuckles dug in waist deep against a sheer cliff face and losing the battle. I flick the ciggie away from me, because it’s a bad habit anyway.

“You know, right, thanks. I’ll think about it,” I say, but my voice even says I won’t. “It’s actually kind of late and I’m tired. Will you tell Lily bye for me?” Gretch nods and she looks all sorts of worried for me and I walk away into the night and think I got work to do.

I’ve got about five interviews, I need to listen to and actually write out before the deadline and there’s that piece about a model who’s in rehab for anorexia that she called me and wanted to talk me, because we talked that once at this terrible party and she just knew that I’d be able to give her story the voice it needed and I think it’s something Miranda would actually put in Runway, because it’s got substance.

And I wish things made sense like work did with friends and dates. Lily and Gretch did the whole U-haul thing a long time ago and are talking about marriage. Doug moved overseas, because he’s Doug and a jerk, but I love him anyway. I just wish he were around, because he was always handy for galas and The who-who’s of New York night life.

There’s still no one serious on the horizon after Nate. The series of one night stands with women is kind of depressing and short. I can’t seem to settle on anything or anyone and I think it’s because I’m terrified of actually committing to this thing called living outside the closet. Like I’m afraid everything will come crashing down and destroy what’s left of me. It’s not like I have a life or anything, let alone a romantic one.

No one seems really interesting anyway. Vapid models, the occasional ruthless business mongrels, and politicians who have to keep everything secret hush-hush. I meet a few edgy artistic people, but they rarely have any direction. They end up high by the end of the night with me watching them in disgust and bugging out early.

Sighing, I kick off my shoes and shove my arm under my head on the couch. I still live in the same dinky apartment over the pawn shop in a bad neighborhood in Queens. But I don’t care. I rarely spend more time here other than a few hours for sleeping. My life is out in that big city, my city. 

I just wonder if things could be different. If I’ll find a real person out there who gets me and wants to be with me. I don’t even know what I want.


	6. Andy-the-Not-Saint

So there’s the interviews that I grind through and then there are like the story pieces that I’ve started to become known for. I’ve been down to the VA, the homeless shelters, the soup kitchens, and I’m a regular frequenter of the rehabs now because let’s face it fashion and drugs go hand-in-hand in a lot of circles. People are starting to know me as that really cool chick who doesn’t judge people and can write real features that can soften an image of a fallen darling. I’ve even got some big name actors that have crossed my desk for legitimate interviews.

I don’t think you can do all this stuff and not get sucked in a little bit so things get hectic on days I’m not out with Caroline and it just becomes this thing that I’d rather do for an evening than deal with Lily trying to hook me up with someone else for the evening because she wants me happy. I’m no saint, but these people make sense sometimes in ways my friends can’t always.

It’s not like I sit across from Emily at the bar and tell her, oh Jane down at the soup kitchen hasn’t had a place to live for five years and she lives under this bridge most nights and what you have that nice pace over in Brooklynn, don’t you? You have an extra room. I don’t blame Emily, of course, she’s paid her dues and fought for her life, but it eats me up sometimes sitting in a some posh bar where the drinks eat my check and I think, is this really worth it?

“Six,” Nigel says and bumps my shoulder to wake me up from my thinking, because I’m always thinking about something. “You’re not working for once, relax. You do remember how to do that, don’t you?” He’s brought his lately boyfriend Billy, a photographer he met at a show. Billy’s been in the bizz for ages and is a bit of a long-winded storyteller, because he has Emily and Serena hook-line-and-sinker.

Emily has brought some guy in a plaid suit that looks ridiculous. I think she said he was into programming apps or something. I don’t know.

“What is this thing you call work?” I tease him with a smile that doesn’t feel exactly real. 

“You need to take some time off again. I don’t know why I’m the one always telling you this. You should have an internal radar that says _Andy, I haven’t slept in a week and I need some time off_.” I actually laugh at that, because that sounds like something my radar would say, if I had one. “I wish it told you to eat too. You look like you’ve lost more weight again.” I roll my eyes, because that’s what I do when Nigel talks about food.

When was the last time I ate? My tummy grumbles and I steal some of the pretzels on the table to sate it since it’s decided to talk to me. Then, I change the topic.

“What is this thing you call sleep?” And I smile for real. “No seriously, maybe after this big piece I’m doing. I think this is it, Nigel. Like I might be able to go to a network with this and it’s going to be amazeballs.”

“Really? And did you just say amazeballs? You’r not twelve, Andy. But that’s great. I’m sure you’ll do it. I mean we’ll miss you at Elias-Clark, but you can always keep freelancing, but I’ve had no doubt that you’d make your way and find your footing in journalism.”

“I think that was the dream, but the reality is as long as I’m writing and writing what I want to write I’m happy even if that’s for a magazine or a publication or for a network. I mean, do I need a title to say I’m happy? no.”

“You know,” he says thoughtfully and taps his mouth. I shrug, because I don’t know when it comes to Nigel. He’s still my magical unicorn guru that imparts all the knowledge and stuff that I don’t know. “I’m really proud of you.” 

What? My eyes actually get a bit watery, because I’m such a dork.

He hugs me tightly and toasts me with a shot glass. We both slam them down and Emily hits the table a few times and drags me out on the dance floor, because we’ve found we actually like to dance together. I’m clumsy as fuck, but Emily likes to thrash around and her boyfriends usually don’t care, because it’s not like we’re grinding or anything, we’re just letting out all the extra energy.

“Ah! This feels great,” Emily yells and shakes me around, leaping into the air and smacking my face with her hair. I crack up and do my signature dork move that makes her roll her eyes. “I’m leaving you if you do that again.”

“You always say that and you never do,” I quip and she rolls her eyes even more exaggerated, because she has all these levels of eye rolls that communicate everything she wishes to communicate. I think she could give some great condolences at a funeral with the proper eye roll, because she’s that classy about it.

“You’re an idiot, but I l—” I think she says I love you, but that would ridiculous so I just dance harder, because that’s what we do and it’s great. “I think I’m going to break up with the suit.” 

“Yeah?” I ask her and she nods. “Why? Is it the suit?”

“All he does is game at home. I think he actually prefers his controller to sex.” 

“Oh crap,” I say as she staggers against me when someone hits her. “That’s intense. I mean, that says a lot about a guy.”

“Yeah, so I got to break his heart. I think he’ll cry.”

“You’ll probably laugh, but then we can take shots and it’ll be better.”

“Why don’t you ever bring anyone?” Emily asks me. “I know you’ve looked at some of the girls at the office.” I pull away, because Emily and I don’t talk about this stuff. My stuff. “I’ve seen you go home with some…”

“Oh, like…those weren’t ever serious.”

“I know people, Andy. Even people who would like you,” she says and throws an arm around me, leading me off the floor.

“Oh, well, you know…you’re breaking up with the suit.”

“And you never date seriously and you’re not a one night stand kind of girl even if you’re acting like it.”

“Emily…who the hell do you think you are?” I ask because I’m floored she’s all over me and her eyebrows shoot up a million times. 

“Ouch, touched a wire. Andy, chill out,” she says and grabs the suit when we are back at the table. “We got to talk. Come with me.” Rolling my eyes, I take another shot, because even my work friends are all over my case.

“Is she giving you a hard time?” Serena asks. “She’s been talking about setting you with Maria from social media.”

“Maria?” I ask. “She’s?”

Serena nods.

“I think it could work, if you don’t let all of your insecurities get in the way, but you are Andy.” I roll my eyes.

“No, I’m not going out with Maria,” I pout and Nigel chuckles.

“But she’s a fine girl, Andy. You can’t hold out for this impossible ideal or you’re never going to really get out there,” Nigel, my classy unicorn guide, says. I frown.

“Fine, you get her number, I’ll call her and if she rejects me you owe me drinks,” I say to Serena and she slams her hands down on the bar and we take some more shots.

So the next day, Maria’s contact info is sitting in my phone and when did I become the asker-outer of things? Nate asked me out, Christian asked me out and all the one night stand women had approached me, but then like a beacon the words of Miranda Priestly come down from the heavens.

“You are the captain of your own ship, Andrea.”

I laugh at myself, sitting at my desk in the office well after time I should have gotten myself on and out into the real world. I have a trio of prostitutes who have agreed to allow me to interview them and here I am, dawdling over the number of a legitimate girl who is at least half interested in dating me and it’s a big deal.

So I call her, because texting is lame and after three rings, she picks up. My stomach does about three flip-flops.

“Hello?” She says and she has a nice voice and I remember she isn’t so bad to look at it either. Not a model, but a friendly gal with wildly curly red hair and green eyes.

“Hey, this is Andy, um the writer on staff and Serena gave me this number and said…anyway…would you be interested in going out for drinks sometime? I’d like to get to know you, outside the office you know…if you’re interested that is. If it’s not…it’s cool—”

“Relax, Andy. Serena told me that you’d text me, but I’m pleased you called. Of course, we can go out for drinks. How’s Friday at eight? Know of any hot places?”

“I’m always down for the Lantern, but not everyone—”

“Oh God, the Lantern is like soul animal. Yes, please. I’ll see you there, okay? And I can tell you’re a worrier. It’s fine, it’s chill. We’re just two ladies going out for drinks on a date.”

“On a date,” I say hopefully and she laughs, before hanging up and I think I might like Maria already. It seems like we’d be friends in real life and stare at my phone and it’s real. I’m going on a date.

And said date is great. Maria meets me at the bar in a nice black number that fits her like a glove and I’m in fitted pants, a white kimono business top with a Japanese Cherry Blossom crawling up the side that Serena loaned me, and my leather jacket. Maria’s eyes drape over me like a blanket and I wonder if I’m just eye candy.

“Andy, the writer, I presume?” Maria asks. We’ve seen each other in the office over the years, but it’s not like we ever worked around each other or ran in the same circles, so this is fine.

“Uh, yeah, Maria, the Social Media Guru?” I say and she chuckles. 

“Well, you know, Yogi is what they call me in the office, but I’m sure that’s because I’m notorious for stealing people’s lunches, because I’m cruel,” she says and I shake my head with a smile.

“Oh, I thought I was the one with that rap sheet,” I say. “What are you having?”

“Sidecar.”

“Ooh, on the wild side I see. Hey, a sidecar and four roses Old Fashion.” I know the girl behind the bar and she winks at me.

Shit.

I think, we’ve done it and my cheeks color a little at that.

“Andy, do you know the bartender?”

“Maybe…” I say and won’t meet her eyes. “I didn’t think she’d be on tonight. She usually works Saturdays.”

“I’ll remember that,” she says and rolls her eyes. “Just so you know I’m not some one night stand—” Yeah, about that.

“I know. That’s not…I know, I’ve not—but I’d like to try, because you know. I don’t know.”

“You don’t know?” she asks and shakes her head. “You just decided to be serious and you’re going to be serious? This isn’t going to go past this date if you can’t even be halfway cool about this.”

“Um, let’s just have a drink and then we can talk about not this, but maybe things we like and work and I know this isn’t a one night stand. I wouldn’t do that to you, Maria. I wouldn’t ask you on a real date.”

“Okay, I just…I just have standards, Andy, and you’re not my typical, but Serena and Emily swear you’re not this lady killer, casanova.” I actually laugh at that.

“I am totally not.”

“You’re a regular heartbreaker. You have a short list at the office of women you crushed,” she says seriously and I shake my head. “Really?” She hits my shoulder and I chuckle again.

“All right, all right. So I got a list, but it wasn’t like I meant to do it. I was just trying to figure things out and I think I’ve figured things out more than I had.”

The drinks arrive.

“Come on, let’s get a table and see if we can salvage my freak out. Sorry about that, seriously…I just wasn’t expecting to see one of your trophies on our date.”

“Right,” I say and feel like a douche. I mean, it’s been two years, I’m bound to have jilted lovers, right? Maria has lovers too, doesn’t she? Doesn’t everyone?

Maybe, I’m just this freak of nature that doesn’t understand people. We stand at a table and take our first tentative sips. 

“So…”

And you can imagine, every single time I open my mouth I stick my foot in it the rest of the evening. I don’t think Maria’s going to call me, like ever or even look at me in the office again. She’ll probably spread it around that I’m creatine out to break little girl’s hearts and I’ll never have a chance again. God, I’m such an idiot who can’t string two sentences together coherently.

Emily and Serena take me out for drinks and we get plastered after that, because I’m idiot when it comes to people and everyone knows it officially now. They pat me on the back and let me know it’s okay that I’m idiot. One day, I’ll find an idiot to be an idiot with, and I won’t spend the rest of my life wandering around in a desolate ghost land where I don’t get people.

So I plunge back into work, because that makes sense.

***

It’s dark, but that’s normal. It’s not like it’s the first time I’ve crashed a bad neighborhood in the middle of the night before. In fact, I do that on the regular on my street corner. I just don’t feel super confident about it tonight and the way the ladies are acting around me since yesterday has me and them on edge.

“Andy, we can’t interview tonight,” Spanks says. She’s this overed-make-up prostitue I’ve been meeting up with three nights in a row and it’s her friends I’ve been talking too. I’ve about got everything I need, but I need to verify some details, but the look in her eyes and the bruises on her face say I better bust out of there for her sake.

“Sorry, sorry, you know I never meant—”

“Andy, he’s going to hurt you if you don’t get out of here now,” she says in a clawing desperate voice, and I realize that oh shit, she’s not worried about herself and it’s me, but why would she be worried about me?

“Gotcha,” I say and give her a thumbs up as she waves me away quickly, but I see this van move and I’m running toward my car.

The doors pop open and a guy all in black runs toward me and I think—come on latte legs don’t fail me now, but haven’t ran lattes for Miranda for two years and the guy dives and we roll hard on concrete. I feel the creak of broken glass under us.

“Let her go, Bailey! She ain’t done nothing. I ain’t told her a damn thing,” screams Spanks, crying and suddenly, I just feel the pain of punches raining down on me like fire and the hit of adrenaline as the guy rips me up to my feet.

“You gonna regret talking to the girls, snoop,” says Bailey, like a real time slimy guy. He shakes me hard. “I’m gonna show you—” I fight as hard as I can as he drags me toward the van and I think, oh shit, oh shit, oh shit and with a jerk, my head hits the side of the door and thick black unconsciousness hits me like a weighted blanket.


	7. Shit Hits the Fan

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I personally hate doing this, (it literally hurts every fiber of my being to break this rule) so I'm truly sorry, but there has to be a shift in perspective to communicate everything that's going on around Andy while she is in the hospital. A nice perk is we get to know what's going on, albeit briefly, in the inner workings of Miranda's mind and heart.
> 
> So, from first person Andy to third person Miranda we go.
> 
> There's only one more chapter from Miranda's perspective and Andy wakes up, so it's not forever promise.

“Nigel,” Miranda says, walking into his office. “I can’t get ahold of Andrea…I’m supposed to have a meeting with her this evening, but she will not call me back.”

“Gloria can’t get her either. It’s been two days,” Nigel says. “No one’s seen her. She hasn’t called in or anything. I just heard an hour ago. What are people thinking?”

“Wasn’t she on some story with prostitutes this time?” Miranda says concerned. “That damn girl and her heart. If she’s gotten herself hurt…” She sniffs.

“I’m sure she’s fine, Miranda. I’ll call around to the hospitals.”

“No, no…I’ll have my second assistant do it. That new one Linus.” Nigel nods.

“Let me know if you hear anything.”

“Will do,” she says and walks out. She frowns down at the blond young man at the assistant’s desk where Andrea once sat two years ago.

She relays the information and only that information. It’s too important for him to mistake this.

“You will only do this until you find out where she’s at!” Miranda says fiercely and stalks to her office, snapping the door shut behind her. She walks to the window and stares out into the city. Her heart thumping hard in her chest.

_Andrea, dear, where are you?_

Caroline will be so worried….Cassidy too, of course. Everyone adores that sweet girl. Removing her glasses, Miranda places her knuckles against her mouth and frets despite her self-admonishing. 

_Silly, silly girl, Miranda, crying over one of your girls._

But she was different wasn’t she? You took a risk and she definitely paid off. Miranda shuts her eyes and feeling the moisture there.

_Please, Andrea, be okay._

It’s two hours on the dot when Nigel barges into her office without knocking.

“Presbyterian Hospital. She’s at Presbyterian.” Miranda stands up quickly. “I’ll go—”

“No, I need you here,” she says. “Take care of the office for me. I’ll send you an update.”

“Miranda—”

“No, Nigel. I have to,” Miranda says in her quiet stern voice, leveling a look at him. “Linus, call Roy immediately and make arrangements.”

“He’s downstairs.”

“Reschedule all my meetings today and I will contact you tonight. You will come after work, Nigel?” She touches his shoulder. Looking at her hand, he nods.

“Of course. I’ll be there,” he croaks out. “Let us know?” 

“Yes…” Miranda rushes out after her first assistant, who hands her everything, while she throws her jacket and bag over her shoulder. Before, she stalks to the elevator, which someone already has waiting for her, having overheard the conversation.

The drive to the hospital is impossibly long.

Miranda can’t help but fidget and she’s not the fidgeting type.

“You know…she’s a fighter, Miranda. You don’t have to worry about Andy.”

“You don’t have to tell me that, Roy. I know,” Miranda snaps and the rest of the ride is silent, but the words mean something. Everyone likes Andrea. It isn’t right. She’s such a good girl, even in this business. She was always such a good, good girl.

She rushes into the hospital without a word and quickly finds a nurse.

“You aren’t family? I can’t give you any information,” the nurse responds. “There isn’t anyone here…no. If you can get an emergency contact I might be able to help or a family member?”

Miranda storms back to the waiting room, picking up the phone and calls Linus.

“Get her parents’ number and all her friends’ numbers. I have to have something. They won’t tell me anything!” She snaps her phone shut, rubbing the bridge of her nose.

She paces as people are puking and coughing around her. Stepping outside for a spot of fresh air, she holds her elbows as an ambulance rolls up with sirens blaring and some other life threatening case is rushed in. Two days in the hospital and what? She must still be alive at least. But not coherent enough to give permission for visitors, not stable…

Linus texts some numbers and she calls what she can only assume is her mother.

“Hello, Pam here,” a woman says.

“Hello, I am Miranda Priestly and I have worked closely with your daughter, Andrea, for four years now. I have some unfortunate news….she’s in the hospital and we are unable to get an update because she has no family in New York. Can you please help us?”

“….” The silence is deafening. “No…no. Don’t call this number again. It’s what she deserves. She brought this on herself. Don’t call. Don’t call me.”

The line clicks and Miranda stares at the phone in fury. Did the woman sound scared? What did she mean, Andrea deserves this? Absolutely unacceptable. How could this woman be her mother?

“Lily?” Miranda hedges her bets locally this time.

“Miranda Priestly,” and the verve of this woman instantly settles Miranda after the strange conversation with Andrea’s mother.

“I am at the hospital. I have tried calling Andrea’s mother to help get information on Andrea but I hit a dead-end. No one will give me any information.”

“Shit. Shit. Andy’s in the hospital? Where? I’ll be right there. I think I can help.” Miranda’s shoulders start to relax as she provides the information.

It’s forty-five long minutes before she shows up.

“How long has she been here?” The vibrant young black woman asks, walking crisply across the parking lot in a business suit.

“Two days.”

“Two fucking days!” Lily exclaims. “Those idiots. How did you hear about this?”

“She and I were supposed to meet tonight,” Miranda says. “We always meet the third Tuesday of the month to chat.”

“Oh, I know. She loves you to pieces, Ms. Priestly.”

“Miranda, please. How do you know Andrea?”

“We’re friends. I’ve known her most of my life,” Lily says. They reach the front desk. “I’m Lily Goodwin. I’m an emergency contact for Andrea. She’s here in the emergency room for the last two days?”

“Oh thank goodness. We haven’t been able to get any contact information on her at all. She didn’t have anything on her person when they recovered her. I’ll call the doctor immediately.” 

The two look at each other and wait. It isn’t long before the doctor walks out and finds them. 

“She was in pretty bad condition when she arrived—touch and go. She’s been physically assaulted.”

_No, my dear girl._

“She’s in a coma right now and we’re waiting for her to wake up before we move her from ICU. She has a complex fracture of the arm, damaged tendons in that shoulder, broken wrist, and ribs. We had to do surgery for hemorrhaging internally. She’s in bad shape, but she should wake up at anytime now. Are you guys ready to see her? She looks bad, but having someone close might help stir her. People she cares about.”

Lily and Miranda look at each, before nodding and following the doctor to see Andrea. His words are an understatement. Miranda stops in the door and gasps. Andrea’s face is black and blue from the severe beating she must have endured. She looks so small and frail. Her arm is lifted up with rods running through it. Her body appears skeletal and lost in the hospital smock.

Lily looks back at her.

“You’ve got to be strong for her, Miranda. Don’t tell me the Ice Dragon is going soft on me?” she asks. Miranda stiffens at the knock of her moniker. Mouth snapping shut, she walks into the hospital room. 

She approaches the bed with this Lily woman. Andrea’s heart monitor beeps quietly and she sits down next to her sweet little friend.

“Andrea?” Miranda whispers and holds her hand. The one that’s free of that hideous contraption. Lily sits on the bed near her legs and strokes her thigh. “I’m here now. It’s me Miranda and your good friend, Lily.” There’s no movement, just a body laying there and breathing, but it’s her Andrea, still breathing.

“Hey girl,” Lily says with a thick smile. “I’m here. I’m here. I’m so sorry.” Miranda sniffs and looks at Lily’s look of care. Wonders at what brought these different women together and why her poor sweet Andrea is here.

Nothing happens for hours. They sit and talk to Andrea, but eventually end up on the couch and the chair. Miranda refuses to release Andrea’s hand because she doesn’t want her to feel more alone than she already has. Her thumb gently strokes her palm.

Lily talks and talks about their childhood. What she knows of it. For being Andrea’s best friend, she seems vague.

“I called her mother…” Miranda says finally. Lily snorts.

“Andy hasn’t been on speaking terms with her parents since she was sixteen. She moved in with my Mom and I for a year before getting her GED and going to college with me.”

“What?” Miranda demands. “That was not on her resume.”

“That’s not something you’d put, would you?” Lily replies, “not at Elias-Clark Publication anyway.”

“What happened?”

“I…I don’t know. It was bad for most of her life. She hid it well. I knew something was wrong but I didn’t know what to do. I was just a kid and here she was fighting to survive and her dad is this big time lawyer and her mom this perfect little trophy wife. And they were super conservative. Her dad was utterly convinced she’d be a lawyer, but anyone who knew Andy back then would say that was crazy. She was so quiet and this really sensitive soul. She didn’t speak up about what happened and she always wore her heart on her sleeve and then one night she shows up at my Mom’s house with bruises all over her face and neck. Like someone beat the shit out of her and she never talked to them again.”

Miranda frowns. What could have happened? Her eyes trails over the beaten woman in the bed again. She suddenly feels despite meeting with Andrea regularly for nearly a year and half that maybe she doesn’t know this enigma of a woman.

“She never told me exactly what it was. Just said they had a disagreement. That’s Andy for you. It was the same thing with her boyfriend, Nate. Now, that I think about it.”

“The cook? Three years ago?” Miranda says and Lily looks surprised that Miranda would even deign to remember such a minor detail about one of her former employees.

“He didn’t beat her I don’t think, but they had some sort of disagreement, but my gut says a lot more went down, because she’s…well, she’s here. And Andy carries stuff around and she doesn’t take care of herself. She’ll put up with anything for the longest time until you cross this invisible boundary and then she walks away. She’ll take all sorts of shit.”

“She went to college on her own? No help.”

“Just scholarships and working her ass off. She lived on my couch a few times and others when it got rough, but she never gave up. She’s a fighter.”

“I know…” Miranda says quietly and Lily gives her this look that says she knows she knows.

“She worked her ass off for you,” Lily says gently.

“And she got what she wanted,” Miranda says stiffly. “I do not give handouts.”

Lily nods again, staring at her hands.

“I never thought she’d be able to do it, but she keeps surprising me.”

“Me too,” Miranda replies.

The conversation ebbs. Lily keeps talking about her gallery, about adventures with Andrea during high school and college and this man name Doug and occasionally Nate would come up again.

“Did Nate ever hurt her?” Miranda asks, because she’s not so sure he didn’t beat her now that something is bothering her. The image of Andrea in those big stupid glasses and a bruise along the side of her face two years ago just won’t leave her mind now that she’s staring down at the woman beaten to a pulp. “Hit her? She’d come into the office wearing dark glasses. Always says it was just being clumsy, but she’d have bruises on her face, a cut. Not a lot, but enough…to sometimes get me thinking…but I never—”

“That’s the way it was in school. Andy always said she was being clumsy, but she flinches…Gretch noticed it at the bar a few months ago when I went to hug Andy,” Lily says. “I just…I’ve learned to ignore it, but Nate was always good to her mostly…out in public. I mean he had the ego the size of Texas and a temper to match Ramsay in the kitchen, but…god, I’m such an idiot.” Lily crumples into herself for a moment. “I’m such a fucking moron. He never thought she could cut it as a writer.”

“She’s a brilliant writer,” Miranda sniffs. “She still has a lot to learn, but oh, so much potential…” Lily smiles nodding. “I can’t bear it. I’ve known her personally for three and half years. She worked every day in my office. How could I have not known or suspected?”

“Andy has walls a mile high…” Lily says. “When she broke up with Nate she cut me out of her life. She had become this different person, because of you and I thought it was mistake. I was wrong….of course, I was wrong. Andy needed to learn how to be confident to get away from him, and her demons, but…she walked out of my life after I confronted her over some petty affair with some fashion guy.”

“Christian,” Miranda humphs. “She was an idiot about him. Naive, but she got what she needed and dumped him.”

“That’s better than with Nate, I guess,” Lily says and scratches her head. “It’s not like I haven’t made mistakes.”

“Me neither. I have a slew of ex-husbands,” Miranda says, shaking her head. “I just want her to wake up. She doesn’t deserve this.”

“No…no she doesn’t.”


	8. The Andy No one Knew

Nigel appears much later, peeking in, but not allowed to enter as there is a two person limit in the ICU.

“Excuse me,” Miranda says, stepping out. She turns to face Nigel and gives him the update. “Go spend a few minutes with her. She’ll appreciate it, but I’m not leaving her until she wakes up.”

“You need to rest, Miranda.”

“I’ve already made arrangements for tomorrow and I will trust you to oversee the magazine until things are settled. Consider this an opportunity to prove yourself, Nigel. I mean it. I am not leaving her side until she wakes up. Send my assistant over with my clothes, toiletries, and some minor work I can do here. She will wake up.”

He nods morosely.

“Go see her,” Miranda says more imploringly, giving him a quick hug and ushering him in. “I’ll get some coffee.” 

She walks downstairs to the cafe, intending to grab something for Lily too. She detours to the bathroom while she is at it and sees how tired and old she looks after all the stress of the day. She hasn’t looked this bad since Stephen broke it off three years ago. Frowning at herself, she takes off her glasses and washes her face. 

Definitely not the Queen of fashion tonight, no tonight she is Andrea’s very worried friend. Her heartaches at the woman in the bed, so small and frail. Not at all like the Andrea she and her girls have grown to love. The beautiful, charming woman who is nothing but a ball of fire running from one area to the next advocating for everything she feels passionate about. A woman who has learned to see and love so many things and people and places. Her Andrea.

She turns away from the mirror and walks to the cafe, ordering coffees and something small to munch on, but she doesn’t have much of an appetite. When she returns to Andrea’s room, she sees Nigel outside looking pale and broken up. She steps next to him.

“I can’t…I can’t bear it, Miranda. Who could do that to Six? Our six,” he says and breaks down. She wraps her arms around him. Lily comes out and extracts the coffees and returns to the room. Patting his back, she gently whispers encouraging things to him.

“Get some sleep. You can help her by manning my post at work. When she is awake and better, you will come visit again.” She backs up, grabbing his face. He nods looking so disappointed in himself. “It is okay, Nigel.” She kisses the top of his forehead. “It will be okay. She _will_ understand. Go rest. You will have a busy day tomorrow.”

“Thanks, Miranda. Please, tell her when she wakes…I don’t even know. That we miss her and we love her.” He leaves after that and she steps back into the tiny room, taking her place and Andrea’s hand. Lily gives her the coffee and Miranda passes on the snack.

“Who was that?” Lily asks.

“Oh, just a friend from the office. My VP, when Andrea worked in the office he’d give her fashion advice, walk her through the Closet and get her clothes….” Miranda smiles affectionately. “He would give her all my secrets. He really rooted for her. More than anyone in the office when she first arrived. She was so different…which is why I hired her. I was tired of all the same vapid model wannabes and rich darlings with a silver spoon in their mouths and Andrea…she blew all my expectations out of the water.”

“Nigel…he called her six?”

“Because of her size. She use to be a size six.”

“God, I think that’s what I hate most about her working there, you know? She lost so much weight and never kept it up back up.”

“I never told her to diet. I did call her fat once…I do regret it, but it was a slip. I was angry about something stupid. I was going to fire her because of her ego. I knew she could do the work, but did she really want it? I know how to get people to preform, I should not have said that in hindsight. I think it has bothered her since. Nigel has talked to her about it. I mean, she isn’t even a model. She is fine. She is absolutely gorgeous.”

“She’s anorexic,” Lily says, staring at the skeletal body of her friend. Miranda’s lips purse.

“She should not have to worry about those things. I regret it. I regret the fashion industry can do this to women. That it can sexualize them, crush them, and turn them into mere skeletal frames to please a billion dollar industry. I love my job. I love fashion, but it should not destroy the people who wear the clothes. Thousands of years ago a more robust frame in Italy was considered alluring. What is so wrong with a size six?”

“The great Priestly speaks truth,” Lily says with a sad chuckle. Miranda waves her hand at her.

“It is a terrible thing when men dictate the standards of feminine beauty, but it is the nature of the beast. I am glad to say I have spent decades trying to do it justice.”

“I’m glad Andy found you,” Lily admits. “I should have been more supportive. I didn’t know you.”

“I do not let many know me…Andrea sort of snuck in.” 

Lily laughs.

“She does that, the brat. Quite the charmer.”

Miranda smiles at that fondly, stroking the hand in hers. 

“You should get some rest,” Miranda says. “I’ll take first watch. I don’t sleep well at night.”

“Thanks….thanks for staying, for being here. It means a lot.” Miranda waves her hand again and Lily lays down on the couch and falls asleep with one of the hospital blankets and pillows.

Sometime in the morning, they talk again. Lily has a show that evening she must attend. So Miranda sends her home with the promise she can return after the show if she wants, but Miranda isn’t leaving and she will call her the second Andrea wakes.

Miranda’s phone rings.

“Yes, Bobbsey?” Miranda asks her dear daughter.

“Mom, how’s Andy? Is she okay? You didn’t call last night and Cassidy made me go to bed,” Caroline says. “I hate when she does that.”

“Oh Bobbsey, I forgot. It was such a busy night. Please forgive me. Andrea is in a coma right now and hasn’t woken up.”

“Can we come visit? Will she be okay, mom?” Caroline persists. “Can you tell Cassidy not to be so bossy?”

“Of course, dear. She is only trying to take care of you. She does love you…When Andrea wakes up you may come and visit, okay? She is not allowed to have many visitors yet.”

“I’m glad you’re there. Tell her I love when she wakes up,” Caroline says. “And I will be there to visit as soon as she wakes up, okay? And take care of yourself, Mom. Don’t get so tired you can’t help Andy too.” Miranda’s heart clutches in her chest. Caroline understands her so well sometimes.

“Of course, Bobbsey. I will try. I promise.”

“Mom, I mean it. You have to sleep and rest and eat. Andy _needs_ you,” Caroline says and a tear runs down Miranda’s cheek.

“Okay, Bobbsey. I’ll call my assistant and have her bring me a real breakfast and I shall eat it just for you and Andrea, promise.”

“Good, I’m going to call Linus and make sure that happens. Here’s Cassidy. Tell her not to be so bossy…” Miranda smiles and hears the phone switch off.

“She’s just pissed that I made her go to bed last night and not to bother you.”

“I know, Bobbsey, but you can be a little overbearing with your sister sometimes. You’re both the same age and…”

“Mom, you know how she is…”

“I know my daughters perfectly well and you have to let her figure things out on her own. I appreciate you watching out for me and your sister. You know that. Please keep doing that. You have to hold down the home front. Just try not to be so bossy, okay?”

“Okay, fine,” Cassidy says, clearly annoyed. “I’ll try. How’s Andy?”

“Not awake yet. She’s been here for two days.”

“What happened?” The annoyance is quickly replaced with genuine worry.

“She was beaten while out on a story,” Miranda says. “She was hurt very badly.”

“Is she going to be okay?”

“She’s alive and we are waiting for her to wake up,” Miranda admits. “That is all I know.”

“Okay. Well, we have to get ready for school. Take care Mom. Oh, Line wants to say something—” The phone passes off again.

“Love you, mom!” Caroline says and hangs up. Miranda chuckles at her daughter’s antics. Then, she calls her assistant.

“Oh, Emily is getting everything. She insists. I’ll call about getting you a decent breakfast,” Linus announces. Miranda huffs at the change of plans. Emily does not need to be galavanting off. No, she needs to be preparing for one of the most important photoshoots of the season. That girl. Never doing what she should.

Emily shows up two hours later, arms laden with bags, suitcases, flowers, balloons, and more.

“The whole office are dicks!” She declares dramatically. “It’s not like I don’t have enough to do getting your clothes, Andy’s things—she has absolutely nothing by the way!—breakfast, but they sent all of the Elias-Clark gifts with me too.”

She drops all the bags and sets up Miranda’s food.

“What are you doing here?” Miranda asks as chilly as possible. “And not at our photoshoot in two hours I might add?”

“I’ll make it a few minutes late and Serena has it handle. I trust her. You do too last time I checked and I’m not leaving this to some half-assed assistant, Miranda. This is Andy. I had to see her for myself. The photoshoot is done.”

She starts setting up the cards, flowers, and balloons strategically. Then, she opens Miranda’s bag.

“Here are your clothes and toiletries. I suggest you freshen up,” Emily says. “I broke into Andy’s dingy little flat in Queens. Worst neighborhood…it’s a wonder she hasn’t been mugged before this! It was terrible, rat infested, tiny dank thing over a pawn shop. A pawn shop! It was terrible and this is about all she owns in clothes, books, and notebooks. I brought her laptop, because seriously it looks like someone will break in at any second.”

Miranda looks at Andrea again. Her heart going out to the girl. Why didn’t she use her money to get a different apartment? She could have moved closer. Two hours from the office on the subway…every day in some terrible apartment for how long? Who was this girl? She felt like she never really knew Andrea.

“We have to get her out of that place,” Emily says with finality, finishing her tornado run through the room. “Do you need anything else?” Miranda waves her hand and gives a nod.

“You may go…” 

Emily goes to walk out.

“Emily….”

“Yes, Miranda?” Emily asks and turns on her heel. Eyes sharp ready for the next command.

“Are you coming back?”

“Of course. After the shoot, I’ll drop by,” she says as if that’s completely obvious. “Let me know when she wakes.”

“First thing,” Miranda promises and Emily is gone as fast as she has come. She looks over the gifts now. Getting up slowly, she peruses the cards and gifts. There are so many…so many people who love Andrea at the offices. Most are from Runway, but there are so many more from the various offices and Miranda blinks back tears again.

“What would they say, Andrea? What would they say if they knew you cared so little for yourself, when they adored you…” Her words tremble. She looks out over the city from the view of the room. “It isn’t right. Living in some shithole…letting men beat you…No, Andrea. I cannot allow you to do this…if… _when_ you wake up, dear. We will have a very long talk about respecting yourself.”


	9. Fuck

_Fuck._

Even blinking my eyes hurt. They’re all crusty and I wonder what’s going on and where I am and if I’m so hung over that I forgot everything. Ugh, it feels like it and it doesn’t, because I’m actually fucking scared to move because I’m hurting so bad and I haven’t even moved yet. I mean unless breathing counts, because that hurts like a fucking bitch.

As I sit there, I realize I’m listening to the beep of a hospital heart monitor, so I’m in the hospital. That answers that question. Not a hangover. It’s been hurting for a long time, but this is the first time I feel like I can actually think and not fall back into the the cushion of what must be morphine and not the best dream ever. No, like worst nightmare ever.

So, I suck it up a bit, dredging up strength from somewhere deep inside of me that I didn’t even know existed, because something is just off and wrong, but I can’t quite put my finger on it. But it needs my attention. There’s a soft whimpering, a little moaning like someone sleeping through a nightmare and I can’t just sit here and not do anything. 

My fingers twitch and I realize I can actually move them, so I’m not like a quadriplegic. That’s a relief. There’s a weight against my knuckles, fingers wrapped in mine, warm and pressing. So I slide them out and reach out tentatively into the world that I can’t quite make out yet. My arm is stiff, but not broken or anything.

My fingers bump into something instantly. The hair is soft, short, and styled. It’s not Lily’s because hers feels differently. She has lush tight, curls in her hair. I shift my head downward. My neck is definitely cranky about that and wait for my eyes to adjust to the darkness of the room. It’s Miranda. Miranda fucking Priestly is resting her head on my bed, holding my hand, and has fallen asleep in my hospital room.

Is this a fucking dream? Things like this don’t happen to Andy. My former boss doesn’t just show up in the hospital, spending the night.

My fingers keep moving gently, because she seems really upset about something and it’s the least I can do for her. She doesn’t look super comfortable either. I’ve never seen her look this vulnerable, except that one night in Paris. It’s obvious she’s been crying and that sends a chilling ache in my heart, because I still feel strongly about all things that make Miranda Priestly cry, because nothing should ever make her cry—myself included. It just isn’t right. Miranda doesn’t need to be crying.

“Miranda…” I whisper and my voice is rough and not exactly comforting, more like Jack the Ripper level of scary, but I press on. “It’s oaky…I’m here now.” Suddenly, Miranda gasps and sits up.

“Andrea?” she declares. “Is this a dream? Are you truly awake? Oh, I must call the nurse.” She fumbles for the call button. “I must be dreaming. What time is it?” When I try to smile, I wince, because it hurts to do that too. She sounds so excited and that’s way better than sad. Miranda so rarely gets this excited about anything. 

Ugh, even my lips and cheeks hurt. I make a face.

“What do you need, darling?” Miranda asks, taking my hand again. “Tell me. Anything.”

“Water…please,” I manage to get out, because my throat and tongue are thick and dry. I feel like I could choke on them.

“Of course,” Miranda says and stands. The nurse walks in exactly at that moment. “She wants water.” Damn. Miranda Priestly giving orders for me is hot. I could do with a lot more of that. The nurse stares at us and takes a step forward seeing me awake. I wave a little, wincing again at the pain that seems to be everywhere.

“Well, hello there! Yes, I’ll get the water and the doctor at once. Are you awake?” I nod. “Is she speaking?”

“Yes. She wants water,” Miranda snaps, clearly annoyed and I want to chuckle, because—god, but it hurts too much to even think about that. The nurse decides to make a strategic exit. Which I don’t blame her. Miranda turns on me and her face is that soft face she only shares with her girls and my heart flutters in my chest again. “You silly, silly, dreadful girl. You had us all worried.”

Oh. I think, I don’t ever want to be Miranda’s silly, silly dreadful girl ever again. The tears come to my eyes and I think if I could just be her good girl all the time that’s all I want in life.

“Miranda, what are you doing here? What happened? Where am I?” Because that all seems like logical questions a person should ask at a time like this and I don’t want to cry in front of her. Because I’m not a big baby or anything.

“In the hospital, dear,” she says, hand in my hair and it feels so good. My face instinctively leans into it and I close my eyes, a rebellious tear escaping. “And why wouldn’t I be here?” She sounds so imperious when she says it like that. Like she has a right to be at my side and sure, if Miranda Priestly thinks she’s earned to be my side then she can be here.

I sigh. A finger strokes away the tear the track, but she still looks like she hasn’t noticed I’m crying like a freak in front her.

“What happened?” I ask because she didn’t really answer that question. I try to move my hand to rub my face, but pain laces through me again and I decide that’s a bad idea.

“Don’t move anymore. You are injured and the doctor will explain everything.”

The doctor swings by fifteen long minutes later in which I nearly fall back asleep and he starts examining me, flashing lights in my eyes and talking to me. Making me answer stupid questions.

“I’ll give you another dose of morphine, but I want you to rest tonight. You were physically assaulted and have many broken bones and bruises, so rest you must have. This is a very good sign.” That last part seems to be directed to Miranda who is nursing me some water, which I’m grateful for, but man, that’s awkward.

It isn’t long before the nurse administers the morphine and I’m asleep again, because that’s about all I can manage in the hospital.

***  
When I wake up next, Lily is there. She squeezes my hand, too afraid to hug me and hurt me. Miranda is gone, which makes me a little sad, or maybe really sad, but then she steps out the bathroom, looking completely fresh and new and totally the goddess she is. And everything feels like it’s going to be okay again, even as my jaw drops open.

“Miranda, you’re still here.”

“Of course, dear,” she says, patting her hair self-consciously. “I have never left.” Oh. She hasn’t left, not for a second while I’ve been here. That must mean something, but I have no idea what that could be.

“You haven’t left?” I ask myself confused, because that doesn’t seem right. The only person who might possibly spend night in the hospital with me would be Lily, but Lily has a job. Miranda has a job for that matter. What is going on here? Lily is smiling at me like I’m an idiot.

“She found you, Andy. They took everything on you, so no one even knew who you were,” she says as if it’s this big story about how Miranda Priestly found and saved me in some back alley instead of finding me in a hospital, some forgotten Jane Doe. “You’re really lucky you have her. And don’t think we’re not going to talk about this stunt when you’re better. That was an idiotic thing to do.”

I frown, but don’t say anything and Miranda is watching me carefully, because if anyone knows me it’s Miranda Priestly. It’s not like I’m going to change my whole fucking life because I got beat up. I’m not going to quit writing or anything or finding the tough stories. I mean, I’m alive, right? That’s something. That has to be something. It could have been a lot worse, but it wasn’t. I’m alive.

“You need to eat something soft. The nurse should be bringing in breakfast soon. They take so long,” Miranda deems this moment to change the topic. Which is probably for the best. I don’t really feel up for fighting with Lily or La Priestly about my life choices.

“This isn’t the Hilton, Miranda,” I tease in my most charming voice and Miranda rolls her eyes, classic La Priestly. My smile grows even bigger and her facial expression softens again and my heart starts thumping in my chest like a runaway train.

“Oh, I know, dear,” she says with a rueful smile that makes her look sexy as hell. “The girls would like to visit. Maybe after school if the doctor gives the okay.”

“Yeah, of course. I bet they’re worried,” I say without a second thought, because I’d love to see them. I bet Caroline is worrying her pretty little head off and we can’t have that. “Tell them, of course. Miranda seriously, what are you even doing here?” I don’t know where that question is coming from, but it’s so damn insistent and making me feel like an idiot. It must be the damn morphine that’s taking my idiot filter off.

“Why do you keep asking me that?” Miranda asks, sounding more than a little hurt. “We’re friends, aren’t we?”

“Yes, of course…” We’re friends? Like real friends? Suddenly, there are damn tears in my eyes again. Lily takes my hand tightly in hers. Why am I so damn emotional?

“Andy…chill out. She’s been here every second with you.”

“I—just—Miranda…” I swallow, because suddenly there are just too many feelings overwhelming me and I look away. “Thank you. No one does that for me.”

“I’m right here,” Lily says annoyed, but I can tell she understands what I mean, because ever since Nate nothing has been the same for good reason.

“You know what I mean,” I reply and still can’t look up, but I see Lily bite her lip uncomfortably, because she really does get it.

“Well, I am doing it,” Miranda says stiffly and I think I’m idiot, because I’m hurting this woman who has put herself out there for me and I’m a complete imbecilic moron. “I’m not going anywhere.” Something in my chest loosens, and one of the tears escape again.

“But Runway…”

“I assure you, Nigel and Emily have it all under control,” she says. “I have very good minions.” I nod, because I know that’s true. Runway will survive for a few days. I take a deep breath and feel the pain lace through my chest. I grunt and Lily squeezes my hand again.

“When can I go to my apartment?” I say, because I don’t want to be here anymore. I want to be anywhere but here. “When can I go back to work?” Because sitting here doing nothing is not an option. I have to do something or my brain will literally melt down. I know what I’m like when I don’t have anything to do. I’m an absolute pain in the ass, insane.

“Going back to that apartment is not acceptable,” Miranda replies disdainfully. Great, who leaked my living conditions to La Priestly. I roll my eyes. “Emily says it’s a terrible place.”

“Miranda, not everyone can afford—”

“You can, dear, or do I need to go to bat to get you a raise?” she declares like this is even an option. Ugh…why does every conversation go insanely off the rails into places I don’t want to talk about.

“Miranda, please, can we talk about this later?” I don’t think she’s going to give up this bone. I mean, it’s Miranda, but something changes in her eyes as she looks down at me and her face softens again like she’s looking at her girls.

“Fine,” she snaps and walks out of the room. Well, that was unexpected.


	10. All Comes Down

“Sachs, what the hell are you doing? That woman just spent the last forty-eight hours holding your hand and you are griping at her? Who are you right now?” Lily demands of me and I’m wondering the same damn thing over here.

“I don’t know. I just…I don’t even know what’s happening—and why are all these cards even here? I was expecting you, but Miranda…What does that even mean?” I look around like I’m going to magically find the answers to all my questions in this tiny, pathetic room.

“You are overthinking things like usual,” Lily says, gently. “Just breathe, apologize for god’s sake. She’s not a monster. We’ve been talking about you and we really care about you. Okay, and what the hell! People care about you, Andy. That’s what those cards are for. Is that why you are so upset? That people actually give a shit about you? You really think you’re a nobody to us?”

Ugh, when you say it like that maybe, maybe not. 

“Shit. I don’t know.”

“You really did. You idiot! People love you, Andy. I don’t know what’s been going on these last three years or what Nate or your parents did to you—”

“No one did anything, Lily—” And the panic builds in my chest, because we’re not talking about this. Not now. Not like this when I can’t even think.

“Well, it’s not going to fly anymore, because we’re your friends. People care about you and if this happens again. If you let things get out of control, because let’s face it, Andy—honey—things are out of control. I don’t even know how we’re all going to handle it. All of us. Miranda, Nigel, Emily, that Serena girl, Gretch and me…Doug is literally calling me every hour from France. France! Andy, do have any idea the amount of money he has wracked up for you? You can’t be an idiot and not take care of yourself anymore.”

I can’t breathe. Shit. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean—-My brain just kind of short circuits and tears and sobs burst out of me, because I can’t even handle the words coming out her mouth.

It’s too much and all the layers are ripping me apart.

“What is the meaning of this?” Miranda’s voice reigns through the room. Squeezing my eyes shut, I try to shrink down into the bed into nothing, because I don’t want to be here anymore like this, not like this in front of Miranda La Priestly. Not in front of my Miranda. I cover my face with my arm. “Why are you upsetting her? Out. Take a break, Lily. At once.” Her words broach no argument. “Go, buy some coffee now.” And she does, which surprises and relieves me all at once.

Miranda sweeps farther into the room and sits down on the bed where Lily had been.

“I’m s-s-so sorry, Miranda. I didn’t mean—I didn’t mean…”

“I know,” she says and it sounds like she means it as she takes my arm from over my face, taking my hand and strokes it. “You must be extremely tired and confused, but you did hurt my feelings.” I nod a billion times and more tears roll down my cheeks.

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry,” I whisper. “I didn’t mean it. I’m so grateful you’re here. I just wasn’t expecting it. I didn’t think you cared so much about me.” And it’s true, I didn’t. I didn’t think you’d ever do something like this in like a million years.

“I am sorry, I have never taken the opportunity to share with you how important you have become to me and the girls, dear,” she says and even her eyes are a little moist. “I must admit it happened so gradually, I did not even realize it myself. Until you were gone from my life.” She takes a deep breath as if to steady all the emotions within her. “I thought I had lost you. It was completely unacceptable.” She squeezes my hand. Then, she does this insane thing where she lifts it up and kisses it, patting it gently, before placing it back on the bed.

I stare at the blessed hand. The one that La Priestly just kissed and it’s buzzing like the nectar of the gods have been smeared across it liberally and I think maybe I can leap up from the bed and declare myself healed, but for some reason my body doesn’t agree with my sentiment. It lamely stays glued to the bed even though lightening is running up and down my arm where her lips have touched me.

“I am so glad you are okay, Andrea.” She shuts her eyes, blinks a tear down her cheek, and quickly gathers herself together. Much faster than I seem capable at the moment, because I’m completely awestruck by the events that have transpired. I must have hit my head harder than thought or I’m actually still in a coma, because Miranda Priestly crying and kissing my hand seems utterly and completely insane.

A nurse walks in with all sorts of soft food and I stare at it, because eating doesn’t seem to be something my body wants to do. Miranda starts opening a few items and positioning my utensils. Changing the topic again I see and I’m glad for it, because man, is it emotional in here.

“Miranda,” I whisper and look at the food again as if it’s a feast instead of a few items like jello, broth, and cottage cheese.

“What do you need, dear?” she asks, looking so concerned. I swallow down the tiny bit of nausea that’s welled up in the pit of my stomach.

“Um, nothing. I don’t feel good,” I admit and she pats my hand again.

“Please, try…Oh, Andrea, you are so thin and it cannot be healthy how much you’ve let yourself go,” she whispers and she quickly stands, looking out the window. I get the feeling whatever she’s thinking isn’t so great, so I better try and eat no matter how much I don’t feel like it.

My right hand struggles to wrap around the spoon, because it isn’t my dominant hand at all. The taste of the chicken broth in my mouth turns my stomach and I falter. It suddenly taste like sand. I swallow, then move to the water on the table, drink, and set down the spoon, rubbing my belly and wondering what the hell is wrong with me.

It’s fucking broth. My hand is shaking when I grab the spoon again and I manage a few more sips. 

“I don’t remember much,” I broach, because maybe distracting myself will help the onslaught of unwanted food. Miranda turns and the stiff pained look on her face says it all. She doesn’t want to talk about it. Just like this food business. “The doctor, right? So it’s bad.”

“Not terrible, but yes. The assault was bad, but you will recover…you will heal.” She returns to her seat and somehow the presence makes eating a little easier, if not a little more awkward.

Miranda’s phone suddenly rings and she stands up to take it by the window again.

“Oh, yes,” Miranda says, her voice instantly lightening. “Oh, what a surprise! I didn’t know Andrea volunteers at a soup kitchen. Yes, yes, that girl is always full of surprises. Well, Karen, I have great news. Andrea is very much awake and eating right now. She should be up for visitors later this afternoon or tomorrow if you want to call me again. She’s still in ICU so her guests are very limited, but I suspect now that she is awake she will be moving soon. Yes, yes, okay. I’ll tell her. Thank you for contacting me. See you soon, I hope.”

She closes her cell phone, lifts an eyebrow and looks at me like I’m a new mythological creature that’s she’s never seen or heard of. My shoulder drops and I completely give up on the broth, dropping my spoon.

“Andrea?” Miranda asks very carefully. “That was Karen. She called Elias-Clark Publication when you didn’t show up the last two days for your usual shift down at the soup kitchen in your neighborhood. She wanted to know if she should replace you for you weekly shifts in fact. You never cease to amaze me.”

I frown into my lap.

“I don’t know…I did a few interviews and they needed help…so, it was easy to swing by when I wasn’t at your house. It’s not like I have much of a life anyway.” I scratch my messy hair and figure I must look like an absolute mess anyway.

“Oh Andrea, what a life you must have,” she breathes as if it’s a wondrous thing and my heart flutters again, but it must be the stupid fucking morphine.

The doctor comes in later with another update about moving me into the hospital out of ICU. So now, I can have regular visitors, which I’m not sure how I feel about, except for Caroline. I fucking can’t wait to see that girl, because she will make me feel better in ways no one else is even capable of.

By the time, I’m all settled again in a slightly bigger room that’s all my own, Emily shows up with even more cards and real fucking food, that strangely I still don’t want to eat.

“You look like shit,” Emily says to me with a big grin on her face. “But I’m glad you’re alive. Don’t be this stupid ever again and god, eat some fucking food. You look like Sandra after a binge diet. When did you try to become one of the ‘rexies?”

I never thought the word anorexic would come up around me. I’m a fucking fat ass. I don’t know why they are pushing food on me like a crack addict.

“Um…right,” I say totally confused by what alternative universe I’ve fallen in. The one where Miranda Priestly is my best friend and I’m not the smart, fat one. Nope, apparently, I’m the skinny idiot in this universe.

Emily doesn’t stay long. Right after her, some police officers arrive and take a report. I still don’t remember a whole heck of lot, but I do remember waking up in the van and the beating that kept getting worse and worse and I thought was going to die. Then, it all falls on me like a tsunami and I can’t breathe. Miranda shoves passed the cops and grabs me as I sob against her.

“Oh god, oh god, oh god,” I whimper against her, gripping on to her like she’s the only thing keeping me from blowing away as blow after blow rains down on me. Then, Bailey breaks my fucking arm. I groan sharply, shaking as fresh waves of pain wash over me.

Miranda keeps whispering to me, rocking me back and forth gently. The cops must leave, because I fall asleep against the warmth that is Miranda.

It’s an hour later when my new doctor shows up and he is not a happy camper.

“Andy, I’ve been reviewing everything and from what I’ve heard from the nurses you haven’t had a full meal since arriving to the hospital. We’re going to have put a tube in if you don’t start eating and move you to the psyche ward,” he says seriously.

“What? What do you mean? I ate the soup, that broth you had in the ICU…”

“When was that?” he asks, flipping through my chart. “You were in the ICU this morning, right?”

“It was for breakfast. She didn’t eat hardly any of it,” Miranda says and I glare at her. Traitor.

“And lunch?”

“Emily brought in soups and salads from one of Andrea’s favorite places, but she didn’t touch it, again.”

“Right, so if you don’t want a stomach tube or ending up in the psyche ward, I suggest you eat something soon, Miss Sachs. This is very serious. In your condition, you cannot afford to not eat.”

“My condition…” I say stupidly.

“You’re in a very precarious health situation,” he says frankly, resting his full weight in the chair on the other side of my bed. He pulls it closer to me and looks me dead in the eye. “You’re anorexic and your body is trying to heal internally and externally. Without food, without nutrients, you will die, Miss Sachs. You’re organs will start to shut down one by one and you will stop breathing if you do not consume food. I’m sending a psychologist down here to speak with you later today and they will come in every day that you are here in this room. Do you understand what I’m telling you?”

My chest is moving, but I’m not sure if I’m present, because I can’t believe the words that are coming out of his mouth. Like death and not breathing and organ shutdown. And anorexia. Like the models at Runway. God, if only he knew how many anorexic models there are in real life. He wouldn’t be getting on to me here of all places. Anorexia. I roll my eyes.

“Andrea,” Miranda says from the window. “Do you understand what he has said to you? That you are anorexic. You need to say it for us.”

“You want me to say that I’m anorexic?” I ask her. She nods twice. I’m anorexic. Miranda Priestly, my goddess, is telling me I’m anorexic. “You called me fat.” The words tumble out of my mouth and the doctor looks at her confused.

“I was a moron, Andrea. That was three years ago and I was upset, because you weren’t doing your job as my assistant well,” Miranda says flatly, but I can tell she regrets the words had ever slipped out her mouth. It’s written across her face like the biggest regret of her life. “You were never fat, Andrea. Never. Never. And I was wrong to say such a thing to you, dear. If I could take back one single moment in my life that would be it, uttering those damning words to you in a fit of misspoken anger. Please, forgive me and please, please, realize you have a problem. You are the captain of your own ship. You must take this one, dear. You must make this terrible decision and responsibility or it will kill you. I’ve seen it with my own eyes too many times.”

Her face looks so pained and the doctor looks like he stepped into some dog shit he wished he hadn’t stepped into. And it’s my fault. It’s always my fault. I made La Priestly have the biggest regret in her life and suddenly, I feel so small and pathetic again. So powerfulness and tired against everything, because who the fuck even knew I was anorexic? I sure didn’t. God, I’m anorexic.

The words sink in my brain slowly and I realize it wasn’t just Miranda’s words or Nigel’s comments and my office nickname or the office atmosphere, but it was Nate feeding me those damn grilled cheeses and calling me a fattie, and laughing when he squeezed my love handles. I blink the tears down my cheek.

“I understand…I’m anorexic,” I whisper to them. “Shit…how could I have missed this?” I breathe. The doctor looks a little relieved and surprised it was this easy for me to even admit it. He starts to stand.

“A meal, Andrea. I’m sending something specialized up, a soup and a packet of Ensure. I don’t care if it takes you hours to eat. I want you to eat it,” he says. I nod numbly and he walks out the door.

“Miranda?” I whisper, lip trembling. She looks at me. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t even…I didn’t even realize.”

She crosses to me quickly, sits down, and takes my hand.

“Oh, Andrea…don’t fret. I know this will be difficult to recover from. When I was a model, I struggled with this too and it’s so common in the industry now. You’ve written about it.” She looks away. “Don’t apologize to me. I feel in some respects that it is my fault. I will work on creating a better atmosphere in the office, in fashion, for you. I should have been working harder against this, but I have become so blinded by it, by the pressures of the industry.”

“Miranda…Miranda,” I say as gently as I can. “It isn’t your fault. I did this. I did this to myself and it wasn’t just you or the office. I had this boyfriend too and he’d say and do things…” I look away from her, because I’ve never said out loud what Nate did to me.

“Andrea, honey, did someone hurt you?” she asks me quietly. I nod and I’m so damn emotional all the time and the tears are back. “Oh, Andrea, dear. You can tell me. You can tell me anything if you wish.”

“He…he’d call me a fattie, fat, and had all these nicknames about it and pressured me to eat all this terrible food because he was a cook. And…and…and it got so much worse when I started at the office and he was jealous. When I started dressing differently it got so much worse.” I sniff and shut my eyes, cheeks so red as I whisper, “He’d laugh, in bed, at me while we were doing it. Slap my fat or jiggle something and laugh and say these..these things about me.” 

“Did he do anything else, Andrea? Something you haven’t told anyone,” she says in a very quiet and serious voice. How does she know? Did she guess all those years ago and didn’t say anything? I look up at her confused. “I…Andrea, I’m sorry, but…looking at you like this, with the bruises. It reminded me three years ago when you’d come into the office with bruises and cuts. You’d always laugh it off and say you were clumsy…but Andrea, did he hurt you? In other ways…”

My chest has become bellows again and I nod quickly. Miranda draws me into a gentle hug, sliding next to me and holding me as I quietly cry against her, because there aren’t words for fucked up things like this. And I’ve royally screwed up everything on every level. I thought I’d had it all together after Nate, but maybe I don’t. Oh God, I don’t. I really don’t, do I?

“I’m sorry,” I whisper against her chest, pressed under shoulder, and her head presses gently against the top of mine.

“Andrea, it is not your fault what that terrible man did to you,” Miranda says fiercely protective. “You never have to apologize for that imbecile again. I only wish I had seen it, really seen it and been able to help you. Or anyone and you would have gotten the support you needed. The fact that you’ve borne all this silently for years…it absolutely breaks my heart.”


	11. Not too Much, Not too Little, Just Right

I get another nap in before the soup comes and I spend the rest of the afternoon eating it slowly. Each bite reminding me of how I got into this position and the woman who is still sitting next to me through all of this. I don’t finish it, because my bowl of soup feels more like a gallon of molasses sliding down my throat. Miranda is there step by step to make sure the Ensure goes down though. She refuses to let that one go. And what the Queen wants, she gets.

It’s evening when the girls show up and my heart comes back to life. Cassidy looks amazing as always, tall and wispy, athletic and confident. But Caroline, my girl Caroline, is shining like the sun when she peaks into the room right behind Cass.

Then, she’s in my arms where she should be. It happens so fast, I’m already wincing in pain, but right before she makes contact she slows down considerably and wraps me in the most gentle hug I’ve ever gotten from her. Squeezing my eyes shut, the last bit of tension escapes me, because this bright girl showed in my room.

“Oh, Line, Line, Line,” I breathe. It’s my special nickname for her. I pronounce it like Lennie and Miranda absolutely hates it, but Caroline loves it and so it completely stuck. “I’m so happy to see you.”

“Andy! I’m so glad you’re okay. I was so worried. You can’t get hurt like this again. Mom is so torn apart without you,” Caroline says and I’m surprised Miranda blushes at that. “She never leaves Runway, for any reason…you have to be good, Andy, and not get hurt.”

“I’ll try. It was an accident. I didn’t mean to get hurt, really,” I say with a lopsided grin. “Oh, I’m seriously so glad to see you. Have you been going to your photography classes?” Caroline nods and I feel relieved, because I would have hated if I was the reason she stopped.

“Cassidy makes me. She says I have to stay busy and not worry about you and Mom.” She says this as if it’s the hardest thing in the world. Which knowing how big this girl’s heart is, I guarantee not worrying about two of her favorite people in the world is the hardest thing in the world.

“She’s right, you know?” I say as gently as I can, because I don’t want Caroline to worry about anything at all. I smile at her real big and lean my forehead against hers, because between us this makes much more sense. “I’m sure you told your Mom something similar, am I right? Not to worry?” Caroline let’s out an annoyed sigh and rolls her eyes in a very Miranda-ish kind of way that charms the hell out of me.

“Oh, maybe, I said something about eating, sleeping, and taking care of herself so she could look after you.”

“Thank you. She’s been taking very good care of me thanks to you,” I say with a wider grin. “I’m so glad you came. Both of you!” Cassidy grins at being addressed. She’s such a champ when it comes to Caroline. I’m surprised though when she comes over and throws an arm around me. Even more surprised when she kisses the top of my head.

“Glad you’re doing better, Andy,” she says with a worried look on her face. “Next time, I hope you beat the crap out of whoever did this to you.”

“Cassidy, language or leave,” Miranda says stiffly. “No young lady of mine is going to talk like a hoodlum.”

“Right, sorry, Mom. I’m glad you are okay, aren’t we, Line?” Cassidy asks, touching her sister’s shoulder.

Caroline nods, curls up where she belongs, right next to me. Sighing, the world settles into place, because somehow this gal has become my best friend in the whole world and I’m so glad she is here. She’s the only person who loves me for just being me. No questions asks. She listens when I babble on and on about inane things and never tells me to shut the hell up. She looks at me like I’m a real person and cares, god damn it she cares that I’m alive. And that is everything.

It just feels like family…and my heart gives an awkward stutter, because I’d forgotten whatever that felt like a long time ago.

The girls talk to me about school and clubs and classes and soccer practice. And my heart literally feels like it’s swelled three sizes too big. Because it’s a sense of normalcy after everything bad that’s happened today and before.

I don’t tell them anything, even though they ask a lot, about what happened. I loosely go over some of the details as vague as I possibly can, because they don’t need to know. Eventually, the girls give up after the last round of questioning when their Mom snaps at them.

Eventually, they have to go home and I already miss them when they are gone, but man, I’m so tired. It’s ridiculous.

“Miranda, you shouldn’t have to stay another night. Really, I’m awake…well, not for long, but I’m going to wake up again. I’m healing. I’m fine. Go rest in your own bed.” Miranda doesn’t even make to move out of her chair. Instead, she looks over at me with a vague and happy smile.

“No, dear,” she says thoughtfully and looks out the window. I can’t help but chuckle at that and Miranda looks at me again with that little amused smile of hers. “Rest, dear. I won’t be far away.”

And that’s all she needs to say for me to conk out for good this time. At least before the psychologist comes to visit and she leaves to take a walk and stretch her legs as she says. It seems like someone is always coming and going in my room.

I have to eat more before I go to bed and my stomach even feels stretched and bloated as I force down more Ensure. God, I feel so fat and that’s so fucked up. It’s chilly in the room, so Miranda pulls out a sweatshirt from my old collection that should have been burned. It’s from my alma mater. 

It literally swallows me up. I don’t even remember the last time I’ve worn it, but in that moment I realize, oh shit…I really did a number on myself, because this thing was getting small when I lived with Nate.

“Miranda,” I say. She’s tucked in the chair again, glasses on, and a spread of pictures in her lap from the latest lines of the season. Evening is purple and dark against the background of her. “You don’t have to stay, really. You’ve already done so much…doing so much.”

“Hush, now,” Miranda replies as she continues to examine the pictures with a critical eye. “What do you think of this accessory from Gucci?” I roll my eyes with a goofy smile, because she’s just playing with me. Mad props for Miranda for being the master of distraction.

“I personally don’t think you’re serious about it,” I reply and I mean it. I worked for Miranda for two years. I studied fashion meticulously under her and religiously consumed all things Runway under her tutelage. If anyone knows where Miranda leans in a fashion sense these days, I think I’m one of the few who are privy to her inner most whims on the matter.

She makes a soft, pleased noise in the back of her throat and nods. Which means in Miranda speak, she agrees with me. Damn woman, god, I love her so much.

She tosses the offending picture on the window ledge. 

“Utterly useless,” she murmurs stuffily. She pilfers through a few more and lifts up two bangles side by side. She’s seriously asking me about this. It’s an honor when La Priestly asks someone their real opinion about something in regards to fashion. So, I feel pretty damned pleased with myself.

“That one,” I say and point to the gold one on the left. “What is that gamboge?” She nods twice before tucking them away. I smile at her and seriously see a hint of pink creep up in her cheeks that surprises the hell out of me.

Is Miranda blushing? Is she that pleased I know what color the bangle is?

When I wake up again later, Miranda is sleeping peacefully in the moonlight that comes through the slats of the window. She looks so soft and vulnerable in a way that I’ve never seen her before. Not sad vulnerable like Paris, but actually content, even though she’s exhausted from watching me. 

A warmth blossoms in my gut and it’s not just all the food. Blinking at her lazily, I shift my head and fall back to sleep watching her.

***  
“You’re going to fucking regret being alive, snoop,” Bailey’s voice echoes over me. His face is dark with rage, a scar over his left eyebrow and a tear drop just under his eye. God, I hate fucking tear drop tattoos. They’re totally ugly. 

His booted foot slams into my ribs. Stars flash in my eyes as my breath catches and both his hands grab my left arm. He rips it back, and back and back—

“Andrea, Andrea, it’s okay. You’re safe, dear,” Miranda’s voice invades the nightmare, but it doesn’t just end like a normal nightmare. Bailey is still there and I’m still in the fucking van and no matter how hard I fight against him he won’t let go of my arm.

“Andrea, it’s me, Miranda. You’re okay. I promise,” she whispers into the shell of my ear, holding me tightly. I start to feel the pressure on different points of my body. Real pain batters back the wicked nightmare and I gasp against her, flush against her body in the hospital bed. The image of Bailey and that van…tatters everything inside me as I burrow my face with a weak whimper into Miranda’s chest.

I don’t fucking care if I’m being a baby. Why won’t he leave me alone? I feel so fucking scared and defenseless. 

“That’s it, darling…Shh…” Her gentle words temper something beating like a frantic wild animal inside of me. My brain starts to slow down like it always does when she’s nearby, but I’m still shaking and crying, because shit, shit, shit. That was bad.

Her hands are stroking through my hair. The door to the room opens up, but I don’t bother moving. I’m so tried and stripped. I don’t even care.

“It’s just a nightmare…I have her,” Miranda assures what must be a nurse. I feel the nurse check my blood pressure, Miranda has to move my arm, because I’m not moving from her. The nurse gives me another dose of morphine, I think. Then, she finally leaves and through it all I can’t stop making these tiny scared noises that seem to come from a place deep and uncontrollable inside of me. 

“Shh, baby girl,” Miranda says gently, still stroking my hair and the other against my abdomen for some reason, maybe because it doesn’t have a bandage.

“—randa,” I try to say, but it comes out like a sleepy whimper. “—scared.”

“I know, I’m here, Andrea. I’m here, my sweet, sweet girl,” she whispers and I swear, I feel hot tears slipping down my skin and they are not mine. “I’m here.” Shuttering against her, I let out a shaky sigh as the last of whimpers escape me and sleep drags me away. I’m so tired. So fucking tired…

***

Lily and Nigel arrive together in the morning. It’s weird seeing them together, like two worlds colliding. Lily has brought more real food, but I glare at it like it’s a plate of cockroaches instead of a smoked salmon in roasted veg frittata. When did salmon become the enemy? Nigel has this knowing look on his face as he and Miranda talk in clipped quiet tones by the window.

“Hey, have you heard anything about when I can go home? The doctor didn’t say anything about it yesterday,” I say to Lily and suddenly, she has this weird case of not meeting Andy in the eyes. 

“Andrea, let’s not worry about that until the doctor returns and we can ask him,” Miranda says in her boss voice. I shoot her a look and then I get this feeling like I’m missing something, like it’s something big and it’s written on everyone’s faces and the frittata that’s growling cusses at me from the hospital table.

“Take a bite, Andy. It’s not like I haven’t seen you eat before,” Lily says. “Didn’t we go out to Death Ave like a months ago? What did you order?” Lily stop talking about Death Ave. We had this huge fight because I only ordered a side that was like twenty bucks, because I couldn’t afford the forty dollar price tag to the meal. It was her fucking idea. I remember eating a few bites of glorified cheese bread, good cheese bread and took the rest home, but still. “Oh.”

She seems too deflate a little as she remembers the huge blowout.

“God, I’m such an idiot sometimes,” she whispers. I reach out and grab her hand, but she pulls away and stands up, shaking her head.

“Lily, don’t…” I say. “I’ll eat the fucking salmon. Just don’t stop being my friend, please.”

“Andy, why would you even say that?” she asks, hurt. I swallow, because I’m terrified she’s going to walk out on me again and I can’t bear it. I can’t bear ever losing her again, no matter how much we get into it. You’re my best friend, damn it.

“I don’t know…”

“Andy,” Lily says and grabs my hand. “I’m never leaving you again. I’m sorry I picked Nate over you, but you closed me out too, you know?”

What does she mean by that? She’s the one who kicked me off her couch, picked that bastard over me, when I’m her friend. I’d known her longer and she picked the guy who was fucking beating me

 _But you didn’t tell her that_ , says a wicked voice inside my head.

You don’t tell Lily anything. You didn’t tell her about your parents, about Nate, that you were gay, or this, but in my defense, I didn’t even know about this not eating thing.

I mean who doesn’t eat?

“I’m sorry, okay? I’m sorry I’m such a fuck up,” I whisper and she sits down next to me again.

“Andy…I just don’t know why you don’t come out and say stuff. Like so many things would have been different if you would have just talk to me.”

“We never say things.”

“Andy.”

“I know. I know. Well, if it makes you feel any better I didn’t know, okay? I had no idea.”

“How can you not know?” she demands confused and hurt. I want to cry again, but thankfully I’m all out of tears. There feels like there’s a dam inside that can bust at any second instead.

“It’s a really common symptom of Anorexia,” Nigel interrupts, looking sad. “In Andy’s case, i’s a bit different, the denial. Part of me believes she honestly didn’t know she was cutting calories so closely. The other half of me knows she really believes she’s still overweight, because she has a distorted view of herself.”

Lily looks at me surprised.

“Is this true? That you think you’re still overweight?” she asks me, eyes wide with disbelief.

My cheeks flush red, eyes drop away from everyone in the room, and I just feel like I’m this disgusting thing, not even a person, but a burden to everyone in this fucking room. The dam inches closer to a full-on breach. I do. How messed up is this? That I feel like a blimp and I haven’t touched my salmon yet. 

“Andy, I remember when you bought that shirt and it fit perfectly…it was your favorite loungewear in the dorm…”

My hands are twisting the extra fabric and my brain won’t compute that this is not okay. That there is something wrong with me and it’s not being too thin. 

_I want to disappear_ , says a very teeny-tiny voice that I’ve never really heard before. At least, I don’t think I have and it shakes me to the core.

I grab Lily and pull her into a frantic hug.

“Oh god, I don’t know what’s wrong with me. Help me,” I say desperately. “I don’t get this. I don’t want to be a burden, but I don’t want to fucking disappear. Please, help me. Lily. I’m so fucking scared. Make it stop.”

I sob against her and she stiffens. I’ve only done this once and it was that horrible night. That terrible night. I shut my eyes against the terrible onslaught of images, gripping her desperately, because it batters against me like a wild storm.

“I’m so fucking tired of being a burden to you. I’m so sorry.”

“Andy, you’re not a burden…”she whispers in a tiny, shocked voice. “Girl, I’ve always been there for you, haven’t I? I mean I blew it with Nate, but I’m your girl. Miranda and I are figuring this out, okay? We’re going help you. We’re going to figure this out, okay? You’re fine. Oh, Andy…I’m here. I’m so sorry I keep missing things, but you’ve got to tell me. You’re like the master at hiding things and I’m your biggest mark. You’ve got to tell it to me straight, because I got this huge blindspot when it comes to you, because you’ve always been you and you know how to hide everything from me.”

I nod and she pulls away to look me in the eyes. 

“I’ve got you. We’re friends and we’re going to figure this out, okay?” Lily says firmly and I nod again as she smiles at me. I shut my eyes, because I’m so glad she’s sticking by me, even if I don’t deserve it. I mean, I’m totally fucked up. I don’t know why anyone is even still in this room.

“Andrea, you need to calm down now,” Miranda says. “When you get upset it makes it harder for you to eat. It kills your appetite. Now, let’s all rest for a moment and we can try again in fifteen minutes.”

God, how does she do it? The whole energy of the room goes from chaotic to orderly as Lily gets up and leans against the window ledge. Nigel sits down on the edge of the chair and Miranda sets about cleaning the room casually.

Nigel talks about things in the office and the world turns. He leaves and then, Lily leaves. Miranda sits down to read the paper and drink her coffee as I struggle to take a few bites of my now cold breakfast.

The doctor comes in while I’m still making a valiant effort, but I give up when I see him and drop my fork on the floor. Miranda tsks as she goes to pick it up and wash it off in the bathroom sink.

“Um, so when can I go home?” I ask him as soon as he grabs my chart from the end of the bed. A frown instantly mars his face.

“Andy,” he sighs out my name. He sits down in his chair. “You didn’t eat your soup yesterday.”

“What? I totally did.”

“You did not. I have multiple reports from the nurses and your friend that you didn’t even eat half of it. An Ensure and half isn’t enough to sustain you to heal properly. Anorexia has the highest fatality rate of any of the psychiatric disorders. This will imminently lead to heart and kidney failure, intestinal obstruction, perforation, infertility, and cut down on your overall ability to fight infections. I don’t know if you realize how serious this is in your current condition.”

“No, I get it. I’m going to die if I don’t eat. So I’ll eat, problem solved.”

“Andrea…listen to what the doctor has to say,” Miranda says from the doorway of the bathroom. I look at the doctor and he sighs again.

“Let’s theoretically say you truly understand all the implications of how this disorder will effect you and your body, but the truth of the matter is you’re still not eating enough to sustain or improve your body’s condition. Usually, people need a support network to effectively change their negative behaviors in regards to eating disorders.”

“Well, if you wouldn’t overfeed me—”

The doctor puts his head in his hand.

“Andrea, you are not listening,” Miranda snaps. I shut my mouth and sink deeper into the bed. I don’t get this. I don’t understand why this is such a big deal. I can get better. Why is everyone acting like I’m not trying to get better?

“As I see it you have two options at this point,” the doctor says in a resigned voice. “We can moved you to a specialized hospital setting directly from here, where you will have a team that will work personally with you on your healing from this point forward or you can voluntarily check yourself into residential treatment. I would recommend the latter, but that all depends on you.”

Damn. My lungs feel like someone punched the air out of them. I didn’t hear home in that option at all. I’m going to be committed one way or the other.

“Andrea, I would recommend the latter as well. I have some options that I think you may like,” Miranda says carefully. I nod quickly.

“Fine. If that’s my only options, I’ll go into rehab,” I snap angrily. “It’s not like I have a fucking choice.”

“You do, Miss Sachs. You can refuse to admit you have a true problem that requires help to overcome and not change your behaviors and die, or you can choose to fight for you life, accept help, and live. I’ll draw up the discharge paperwork as soon as you prove she has signed into a facility,” the doctor says to Miranda. “If she isn’t signed in before my shift ends this evening, I will sign the paperwork to have her committed. Is everything clear?”

“Crystal,” Miranda says coldly. The doctor walks out and Miranda grabs a bag Nigel had brought, before handing me three thick pamphlets describing fancy rehab facilities.

“Miranda, I can’t afford these. Where’s the one that Sandra goes too? I think my insurance might cover that.”

“You are not going to a subpar facility. Whatever your insurance doesn’t cover, I’ll make arrangements for.”

“Like hell you are Miranda. I’m not going to let you do that!”

“Andrea,” she says and sits down on the bed. “I don’t think you realize what you have given my family and me these last years. There’s really no words for it. You’ve changed our lives. Given room for Caroline and Cassidy to be their own person and prepared them to be the best young women they can be before they set out into the world with all due diligence. I have honestly never been as content and happy as I am the evenings you come to visit me. I do not remember a time when I have laughed so much or so freely. Perhaps, you will never realize how special you are despite how stubborn and uncooperative you are in most things.”

My heart stutters again and I get the feeling my dam is about to burst.

“Miranda stop or I will start crying again, because apparently I can’t stop crying. I can’t argue with you, but this…this is too much.” She places a hand on my shoulder.

“You are never too much or too little. You are just right.”

That does me in and it’s over, because I never thought I’d hear those words in my life.


	12. Andy Goes to Rehab

Miranda and Linus manage to do all the running to get me checked into the Reclaim Freedom Center. I mean the pamphlet was great, but that name. I guess, that’s a silly reason to pick a place but Miranda made this pleased noise in the back of her throat and that decided me officially on it. Go, Andy for making positive choices, right?

I’m officially discharged and it’s not like I haven’t been standing up to go to the bathroom, but it feels like it’s harder than ever to drag my legs out of bed. They manage to get my arm in a specialized sling that’s held against my body and give me an order to start PT immediately so I don’t lose the range of movement of my shoulder.

Feet down, Miranda bends down to help slide some slacks on me and flat sandals. I grab her shoulder when she stands, give it squeeze, but then I have to hold the pants while she helps me stand up and I manage to button them up. The rest of the hospital gown is easy to untie and unbutton under my sweatshirt and I pull it out, but by then I sidle back down on the bed, because my legs are tired and my heart is going a mile a minute.

“You okay, darling?” she asks me, with a concerned frown. I nod, giving my best _no, I’m not falling apart at the seams_ smile. She humphs at me. “Well, I am checking on the nurse. Do not try to get up without help. Understood?”

She stalks out of the room, because she thinks the nurses are moving at a glacial pace. Grinning to myself, I collapse back on the bed with a groan, because my body hurts.

Miranda returns five minutes later with a wheelchair and a nurse running behind her.

“Well, you can grab the luggage or the chair, but we’re leaving!” Miranda says. “My driver is already downstairs waiting and we have been discharged.”

“Okay, okay, I’ll take the wheelchair, Miranda,” the nurse says with a harried, annoyed smile. “Andy, are you all right?” Miranda turns on me and quickly goes to my side.

“Andrea, why are you lying down again?”

“Um…I’m resting?” I say to her and she blows out a batch of air. I lift an eyebrow and she looks at me like she’s not quite sure what’s she’s going to do with me.

“Okay, dear, but you can rest at the center. We have to move you. Now, let me help you sit up,” she says, not sounding angry at all. I meet her eyes and see she’s just concerned and I smile hesitantly again. Her lips twitch.

“Thanks, Miranda,” I reply, because this is something and right now, I’m a bit uplifted to be leaving the damn hospital. Her arm slides around my shoulder and we get me sitting up again. I let out another breath, before I’m on my feet and transferred to the chair. Miranda grabs my duffle and puts it on my lap and stacks the bags of cards, gifts, and balloons on her rolling suitcase before we set out. 

She leads the way, naturally, because she’s Miranda. The nurse has to walk as fast as she can to keep up with the power walk Miranda rocks down the hall. My eyes slip down to the sway of her see-sawing hips and my heart is going a mile a minute for a total different reason. I don’t think, she even knows how damn sexy she is even after spending a few nights in the hospital.

I wave to other nurses as we pass by the desk, who smile at me and wave back.

“Good luck, Andy!” My tech hollers at me.

“Thanks, Frank!” I call back and Miranda looks back at me with a little smile on her lips, before she hits the button for the elevator.

“Am I going to get to ride the elevator with you, Miranda?” I ask with a wicked smile and look back to the nurse pushing me, Anne. “I worked for Miranda for like a year and half and I was not allowed to ride in the elevator with her.” 

“Really?” The nurse says with an incredulous laugh. “And she’s here?” Miranda gives me a look over her glasses. “Oh yeah, I can see it now.”

“Be careful, dear, or I’ll make you catch the next one,” she says in her old Miranda voice, but I can hear the light strand of amusement in her voice and I grin at her, which produces a twitch on those wonderful lips. The elevator dings and she holds the door for us and let’s the nurse and I go first, so that answers that question.

Roy’s downstairs at the main door to take our luggage and open doors. Miranda helps me into the car, before walking to her side and sliding in. I buckle myself in and sigh. This is almost normal except I’m driving directly to a facility.

“I’m sorry, Miranda,” I say to her when she settles. “I’m sorry I’m not okay.”

“Oh hush, darling. No one is perfect,” she says and waves her hand. “I told you before, I once struggled with this myself. It is very common in the industry. The important thing is you will learn to manage it and make effective life changes to cope with life. I cannot bear that you continue to hurt yourself and I want to give you every opportunity to get better for yourself first, but also selfishly for myself and the girls. So not another apology.”

“Thanks,” I say and flash her a smile. Her lips curl up and she reaches across the way to pat my hand. My fingers twitch across my normal slacks and I feel some extra fabric. After driving quite a ways, I realize we’re near Miranda’s neighborhood. “Oh, I know where we are.”

“Yes, I am quite please you chose this one. The girls and I will be able to visit you every evening during visiting hours,” she says with a smile. “There will be three of us, so we can make sure one or more of us are always there for you.” My cheeks turn a bright red at that. I mean, the Priestly women are going to make sure I have company every day. My heart decides that moment to take a run again. I reach up and touch my chest. “You sure, you are okay, darling?”

“Oh yeah…I’m just…I’m a lucky lady that I found you guys,” I murmur.

Miranda unlatches her belt, slides over, and strokes my hair. The smell of Miranda is something spicy, a soothing darker tone…leaning away from floral to something more exotic and textured. It’s all Miranda and I’m heady with it. I find myself sinking toward her, like she’s the sun and I’m a planet destined to be in orbit or rather a magnet as I place my head on her shoulder.

_shit_

What’s wrong with me? I start to jerk away, but she catches my head and encourages it back down into its place, stroking my shoulder. Taking a deep breath again filling up on her scent, I close my eyes and relax against her.

We don’t talk about it, but my brain starts to slow down again, reeling in and all the worries fade away. All I can think about is her and not worrying about what’s going to happen next. I feel something unwind slowly in my chest and my breath hitches again.

“Shh,” she whispers. I nod against her.

“—sorry,” I murmur.

“No, it’s all right,” she says quickly. “I’m here.” She’s here for me and I want to believe she won’t fail me like so many others. I have to believe if Miranda can run a magazine as successful as Runway for so long and raise such great girls that maybe this will be okay, trusting her. She squeezes me into a side hug, rubbing my okay shoulder. “There…you were so tense.”

“Yeah, you make me not tense,” I murmur. “Oh, sorry, Miranda. My filter is off lately.”

“No, no, I have quite enjoyed this unfiltered Andrea. I would not have minded her much before at all. It is quite sad that it takes so many drinks of brandy to bring her out or a bit of morphine.” I blush and she chuckles the river chuckle, but she doesn’t hide it behind her hand this time. I store that one away for good measure, because making her laugh will warm me no matter the circumstance. Damn, this woman is everything. “Oh, here we are! I am going to make sure you are all settle before I go.”

“Sounds good,” I admit as she slides out of the car. I open the door and wait for her.

She grabs my duffle, shooing Roy away. She comes around to me and helps me stand on the sidewalk. The center has stairs and attached to two other buildings with an almost picturesque staircase leading up to the three story building. Purple flowers wrap around one of the rails and there’s a vibrant sign that says Reclaim Freedom with a bright sun on it.

“Here we go,” she says, patting my hand and keeping a firm hand around my waist as we approach the stairs. I can’t believe how tired I am after the car ride, but I grab the rail and Miranda has to help me with the stairs, whispering encouragements to me the entire way.

She grabs the door handle and let’s herself into the foyer of a place that almost looks like an apartment building. There’s carpet and a desk with a woman behind it, manning the phones and the computer.

“Hello, you must be Miranda and Andy!” She says. “I’m Clara, you talked to me on the phone. Let me get a wheelchair and I’ll get Doctor Dimarco.” She rolls a wheelchair around and I decide to plop down ungracefully, both Clara and Miranda wince.

“Sorry,” I say sheepishly. “I’m more tired than I thought.” Miranda pats my shoulder. Clara opens a door to the side. 

“She’s here, Dr. Dimarco. Are you guys ready for her?” She asks. “All right…Andy, Miranda, you can come in. Your team wants to meet with you before you’re admitted and you’ll finish filling out the paperwork.”

We step into a room with an oval table and men and women surround said table. One by one, they stand, come over, and introduce themselves. I catch Dimarco, a black woman with a friendly smile, but the rest kind of short circuit out of my brain. There’s another doctor, a nutritionist, a two therapists, psychiatrist, social worker, and a trio of nurses.

“Welcome to Reclaim Freedom, Andy,” Dr. Dimarco says. “We’re very happy you’ve chosen us to help you on the path of recovery. It’s very important that you realize that we’re all on the same team here and we want to get you to a place of independence, stability, and have the ability to address life without the need to revert to the eating disorder coping mechanisms.”

I nod at a loss for words with this group of people.

“Great. You’ll be supervised and have medical monitoring 24/7. All your meals and snacks will be supervised. The first 24 hours you will be on watch and treated one-on-one, but the rest of your stay will be with the group. We’ll work on nutritional counseling personally with you and even offer training in preparing meals if that is an issue for you. There will be individual and group therapy and there is an option of family therapy that hasn’t been marked…is that going to be an option for you?”

“No,” I say shortly. She nods quickly and the therapist takes a quick note that makes me roll my eyes. Miranda huffs a little to my side.

“You’ll have a minimum stay of 12 weeks—”

“What?” I say.

“We aim to make sure that the patient is ready to enter a partial hospital setting. It may be longer depending how things go. Each patient is different.”

“But what if I get better quicker?” They look at each other. “I mean, it’s just eating right. I can figure this out.”

“I promise, Andy, if you gain back the proper weight of a woman of your height and stature and maintain it without falling back into your coping methods, we will release you sooner, but since we don’t have to worry about insurance in your case…we would like to provide you the best opportunity to recover successfully. You will not be released any earlier than that. Some patients stay on for a year with us. It’s not because you are weak, but each path to recovery is different.”

“A year?” I say in complete disbelief. “I won’t be here for a year.”

“I hope that’s the case,” Dr. Dimarco says. “Find a reason to get better and stick to it is what I say. Here’s the last bit of paperwork to sign off on and do you have any questions for any of us?”

Miranda starts firing off questions like a machine gun. They look surprised as I start filling out the paperwork. Miranda doesn’t stop me, so she must still think this is an okay place. Eventually the talking stops and I look up at her.

“What do you think?” I ask her. She flashes a look toward the doctors and let’s out a slow sigh.

“They are acceptable,” she says with a nod. I nod back to the group. I trust Miranda to be able to discern something like this. I mean, she’s a freaking goddess at Runway and I know she can read people in an instant and she really grilled them too.

“Thanks,” I say too Miranda. I Take a deep breath and sign away my life to the crew sitting around me. Everyone in the room seems to relax and one of the nurses stand up.

“Let me show you to your room. You’ll stay there for monitoring for 24 hours and then we can give you the tour. Miranda, after we get Andy settled, I can have one of the patients give you a tour.”

“That would be acceptable,” she says with another nod. We walk out of the room and into the actual facility which again seems like it’s an apartment complex. We take an elevator up a floor and there is a hallway. She opens one of the doors to a single room with a bathroom with two twin beds, two nightstands, heart monitor, blood pressure kit, and a handful of things. 

“This will just be for 24-hours. Then, we’ll integrate you with the population on the first floor. You’ll share a room with one of the patients.”

“Right,” I say quietly and Miranda helps me up and onto a bed.

“Are you very weak? Hopefully after 24 hours of stabilization you will have more energy. I’ll be your nurse for the first 24-hours. I’ll be in and out, but I only have three patients on this floor. When your meals come you will have a therapist who will personally sit with you during and after it.”

“Right,” I say again. It all is overwhelming. I reach out for Miranda and she sits down next to me, wrapping an arm around me. I lean into her and shut my eyes, feeling a few rebellious tears slip past my breach.

“I’ll be up to see you as soon as they allow me.”

“After the 24-hours are up and you can visit during the next open visitor hours,” the nurse says, settling my duffle bag and going through it. “I’m taking your laptop and we’ll provide scrubs. Would you like your notebooks and books?” I nod. She smiles and puts them on my nightstand. “I’ll meet you outside, Miranda. Try to rest, Andy. This is a lot to take in.” I nod again as she pushes out the wheelchair.

“Are you going to be okay, Andrea?” Miranda asks me.

I’m not so sure, because this all seems a little bat shit crazy to me. Something tells me I got to do this to get better. If not for me then for this woman sitting next to me and Caroline and Cassidy. I want them to know that they can overcome anything no matter how hard and weird it is, so somehow I got to pull off a miracle and figure this damn thing out, but at least I’m not alone. I sniff and nod. I’m such a dork. I rub my nose and Miranda smiles, leaning in to kiss my temple.

“I’m fine,” I murmur to her and feel my cheeks turn crimson as electricity runs down my face. Damn, this woman can light me up like no one else. All I want to do is kiss those perfect lips, but I’ll screw this whole damn thing up. I’m in no shape or form to even be worthy of La Priestly.

Shutting my eyes, I lean in and give her a hug. Andy really isn’t a hugger, I mean unless it’s Caroline, but suddenly, I can’t get enough of Miranda’s hugs and she hugs me back. I feel a sort of fuzzy comfortable warmth fill me like her cashmere throw.

“Oh, I know you will be, darling. Remember you are the captain of your own ship. You can do this. I believe in you. I’ll bring the girls and we will be cheering you along the whole way, promise.”

“Thank you so much, Miranda. I can’t even…” The words leave me and she squeezes me again.

“You can do this.”

I nod again.

“I can do this,” I whisper. “Okay, thank you so much for everything, Miranda. I literally can’t even begin to thank you for everything…”

“Hush, darling. It is all taken care of…remember, there is only one stipulation and that it is to return to us,” Miranda says and hugs me one last time before standing up. “Now, rest up. The fight ahead will be hard.”

She leaves me and the room, even though it is bigger than my apartment seems to shrink a little without her in it. The tears start to fall without Miranda and I curl up in the bed, pushing the pillow against the wall and burrowing my head into my arm.

****  
The first twenty-four hours are pretty bad. The Andy that comes out to play is like a nightmare version of me when it comes to eating. The therapist is polite, but very, very firm about me eating astronomical amounts of food. I’m not allowed to even go to bathroom by myself for fear I’m the purging type.

It’s hard not to vomit for the fact that my stomach is roiling around like a fucking ship in a storm, annoyed with me. Whatever I can’t manage to get in is followed up with some kind of nutrient shake like Ensure. I spend most of the day with the therapist to say the least, throwing tantrums and refusing to talk about my feelings. I’m glad Miranda isn’t around to see it. It’s kind of humiliating.

After twenty-four hours, despite my fun attitude, they introduce me to the general population.


	13. Here's the Cactus of My Heart, Miranda.

The population reintegration plan goes about as expected, abysmally. The majority of us are of the mind that we obviously don’t have to be there, but everyone else does, and then there is a minority of people who are playing the game or acting like they are playing the game to get out.

When Caroline shows up, I give her a tight hug, and accept hugs from Cassidy and Miranda.

“Mind if I steal Line for like five minutes? I have a photography project for her,” I ask Miranda. She nods.

“Cassidy and I will be in the garden.”

“Be there in a few minutes, promise,” I say and drag Caroline down on the couch with me.

“What do you need, Andy?” she asks, very excited about the project.

“As soon as you can get it, I need small photos of you and your mom. If you can get a picture of your mom, looking over her glasses or having them in her hand that would be great…and Cassidy, of course.”

“Oh! I know that look and yeah, sure thing. But why?”

I frown a bit and squeeze her shoulder.

“This is a little harder than I was expecting and I need some motivation to get better. I mean, really good motivation, and you gals are literally the best thing I have.”

She hugs me tightly.

“I love you, Andy. You got to get better. Mom still isn’t the same…”

“I’m trying my hardest, Line. I’m trying.”

We walk out to the garden, where the evening light is parting rays through the trees and casting this light on Miranda and Cassidy that make them look like angels. I stop in my tracks and Line grabs my hand, to pull me along. They are sitting in one of the benches and Line makes sure I take the last spot on it.

Cassidy scoots over so I can sit down next to Miranda. Then, her arm is around me and she pulls me to her, so my head is under her chin and one arm is around my waist.

“I’ve missed you, darling,” she murmurs, even though it has only been like a full day, but I know exactly what she means. I’m so tired, but just being around her feels like she’s my life force. 

“Miranda,” I whisper, gut roiling with emotion. “You don’t even know…how much…” She looks down into my eyes. “I just miss you too, okay?” She smiles and kisses the top of my head.

“Well, we’re here now, my darling,” she murmurs, before returning her head on top of mine. “Girls, tell Andrea about your days.” Line starts and Miranda refuses to release me which I don’t mind in the least. Then, Cassidy tells me about her day. And finally, as the last of the light winks out Miranda talks about her day at Runway and how much Nigel, Emily, and Serena miss me.

When they leave it’s like a blackhole returns, but for the first time I eat my snack without a fuss and I struggle to fall asleep that night. Caroline returns the next day on her own with the photos I asked for and they are amazing. 

Miranda is sitting at her desk at the townhouse, peering over her glasses as if she’s looking directly at me. The look is intense, but there’s also this amused and caring look as if she is looking at the girls, but I know she’s specifically looking at me. Then, there is a shot of Cassidy playing soccer and it looks like someone took their own camera and took a picture of Line taking a picture of a subject she must have really enjoyed, because she’s grinning from ear to ear.

“These are perfect,” I breathe and squeeze her into a tight hug. “Thank you so much.”

I take the pictures everywhere. I put them on the table to eat and I take them to sessions so I remember they’re the reason I’m doing this. It makes it easier to talk. It makes it easier to eat.

I wish I could say I’m doing this for myself. That I actually give a damn about the body I reside in, but right now, the only thing that gets me through the day is knowing that for some unknown reasons the Priestly girls love me and need me and there is no way in hell I’m going to mess to this up.

So I talk about things I never talk about. I start with living outside the closet and how hard it is. I talk about when I decided to exit said closet when I fucked Christian. Then, I talk about Nate. I talk about Nate a lot, because there are so many things I never talked about or told anyone. There are things that I just pretended didn’t even happen, because of my need and drive to be something I wasn’t.

Miranda shows up around week six by herself. She’s kept her promise so far and the girls and her have come every single day. Sometimes, it’s only one or two or all three of them, but they are always here for me. Of course, other people came occasionally too. All of my friends have come by at least once, but lately it’s just been the Priestly women.

“Miranda,” I say to her as we sit on our bench all cuddled up together. It’s become our own sort of ritual and it’s the only thing that makes me feel okay, even more than the medicine they have me on, or the talks, or whatever. Miranda is the only true cure for the aches in my heart.

“Yes, darling,” she says in a content voice.

“I want to tell you something before I tell these therapists…”

“You can always tell me anything, my girl. Anytime.” Something warm fills me up again like hot oil from head to toe and I nuzzle into her a little and her hands tighten around me. 

“You called my mom, right? When I was in the hospital?”

She stiffens underneath me at the mention of my mother. Which I totally get, my mom isn’t exactly someone I’d want to talk to either. She made it pretty clear the last time I contacted her that I was not welcome to do so again in any uncertain terms. Gee, thanks, Mom. Way to take one for the home team.

“Yes…Andrea, she was very curt with me. Said some terrible things,” she replies, haughty. “I think…I am pleased you left the situation no matter how difficult it must have been for you. I am as usual sad and angry that you did not have the support system that you required.”

“And I appreciate that, Miranda, really, but let me tell you why I left, okay?” She nods twice, pulling back just enough so she can see my face and eyes. Those blue eyes, pull me in. I give her a trembling smile, because I’m scared shitless about this really, but I want to tell someone I trust, before I ever breathe a word of this to some therapist. And right now, the only woman or anyone on this planet I trust 100% is Miranda Priestly. 

“So…I don’t know if you know this but I’m gay.” I realize that I’ve never even had this conversation with her. I flinch as I say it again, because really it has only been like one time in my life I’ve said that aloud and nothing bad happened. It suddenly hits me that this could be it—whatever this is—and I don’t know if I could bear that.

She takes my chin and draws my eyes back to her face. She looks both concerned and amused. There’s a tiny wisp of a smile on those lips and that caring look in her eyes.

“Dear, I had a suspicion and of course, there is the talk in the office,” she says with a soft, wicked smile full of the same tenderness. “You do so remind me of myself when I was that age.”

“Miranda,” I breathe, because she looks so damn sexy and hot, but she’s talking about things I’m still struggling to place. “What? Are you?” 

“Bisexual, yes…well, honestly, I’m more of a lesbian. I strictly am attracted to women. During my modeling days, I was quite the…hm, how do they say it these days…lady killer, a Casanova?” I hide my face in her shoulder at my monikers in the office, apparently, and a chuckle pours out of her. “Oh, Andrea, dear…”

“What about Greg and Stephen?” I ask, meekly. Cheeks so red and burning as a pit churns in my stomach.

“Those were a means to an end. I had a degree in English and Communication, but I fell into modeling and took it for all it was worth. When I felt like I wanted something more I began my climb in the fashion magazine industry. I have always wanted a family and back then, I thought the only way to do that was to get married, settle down, and have a family. So I picked Greg and after him, I felt like the girls were missing something, a father. I was an idiot when I married him. It was a mistake. And one I will not make again. Now, dear, that is enough about me…please, continue with your story. I do wish to hear it.”

Too stunned to speak, she nudges me and I come back to life.

“Where was I?” I murmur with a swallow.

“You’re gay, dear.”

“Ah, right…so, I’m from rural Ohio, and there are some very conservative sects there. I’m from one of the most conservative counties in the state actually…they are about anti anything there. Anti-pride, anti-abortion, probably even anti-feminism, you name it. There’s just a lot of hate there.” She squeezes me against her again as if realizing how hard this is to talk about.

“I spent my entire life not understanding what I was feeling and why I didn’t feel anything for boys when everyone was pressuring me. I mean, my mom decorated my room in country male stars when I was in kindergarten and I would just look at them and I wonder why I didn’t even care while she swooned over them.”

Miranda makes a harrumphing noise, but it’s soft, so I think maybe she gets this.

“Anyway, it started to get worse and I had to hide it. I knew I was different from the other girls. I wanted to dress differently and do my hair differently and nothing made sense. When I was sixteen, a new girl moved in from the city. We hit it off like immediately and I just kind of fell into my first real relationship. She was out, you know and everyone was so mean to her and I hated it. Everyone started to say I was gay too and then one day a teacher caught us kissing under the bleachers and they told my parents...and suspended us too.”

“They what?” she demands. “I haven’t heard anything like that in a long time!”

“My dad always had anger issues. I mean, he’d hit mom and me, but that night he just went ballistic as soon as we walked in the house. He said how embarrassed and ashamed he was of me. That I was an abomination and filthy sick little demon. How he wished I’d never been born. He worked himself up so fast and then he just started beating the crap out of me, like seriously—then, he grabbed my throat—” A sob wrenches itself from somewhere deep inside of me, so dark and forgotten I didn’t even know it was coming.

“Oh, Andrea—” She clings to me tightly. “Oh, my sweet, sweet girl…” I sniffle a little bit.

“It’s okay, Miranda—”

“No. No, it is not. That man…he was not a father to you. What he did was criminal and wrong and it was oh! There are no words for this. It is so good that you managed to escape that hell. The fact that he hurt you, had been hurting you and tried to kill you…how did you escape?”

“Mom knocked him off and in that moment, I ran out of the house and went to Lily’s mom’s house. I think it was just an impulse to keep me alive, not that she disagreed with anything he said.” I scrub at my eyes.

“Why didn’t you tell anyone? Did they ever talk to you again?”

“No, not with Dad, but I did call Mom afterwards, because I didn’t know how she felt, but she told me to never contact them or call her again and hung up. I honestly thought Lily knew for longest time. We just don’t talk about things.”

“I assure you, Andrea…she does not know.”

“You’re right…I guess, that was wistful thinking since she didn’t even know I was gay until Gretch called her out on it,” I admit with a frown, tears slipping down my cheeks. Miranda wipes them away.

“If I could Andrea, if you’d let me, I would protect you from all the people who’d ever try to hurt you ever again,” Miranda says, in a fierce gentle voice and holds me tightly, kissing the top of my head. I nuzzle into her.

“I wish you could, Miranda,” I murmur and mean it. “I tend to get myself in some terrible positions.”

“That you do. I wish you cared for yourself as I care for you. Can you try for me? I can’t bear this world without my sweet, sweet girl.” My heart flutters in my chest.

“Anything for you, Miranda,” I whisper and again her arms tighten and release me and I wish I could stay there forever.


	14. Finding Home

At eleven weeks, it surprises me when Dr. Dimarco and the team meet with me again. I have no idea what is happening when I walk into the oval table room and Miranda is sitting in the room with my medical team. That hasn’t happened since day one when we arrived.

The whole team is there and I know all their names now and some of them I know the names of their kids and favorite games since we don’t exactly have a lot of free time, but we don’t get to do much other than read some pre-selected books or play games. Since I’ve gone on fieldtrips some of them I even know random things like favorite paintings, artists, food, and animals.

“Andy,” Kathy Dimarco says. “Have a seat.”

“Miranda?” I ask and she offers her hand. I take it and sit down. “What’s going on?”

“We’re here to talk about next options and create a discharge plan for you. You’ve officially hit and maintained your goal body weight.”

“I have?” I ask with a little smile and feel relief flood through me. “That’s great…oh my gosh…I didn’t even know, because of the blind check-ins and stuff. I just want to thank you guys. I know what a pain in the ass I’ve been.”

“Andy, you weren’t that bad, really. What you’ve accomplished is amazing and you should be happy and we’re all happy that we were able to help you achieve your goals.”

“Thanks…I hope I can come back one day when I’m better and able to go back to work and tell some of your stories. I’d like to write a book about this journey, but I couldn’t tell it without you guys…”

“We’d love that, Andy,” Dr. Dimarco assures me, “but let’s not worry about that right now. Let’s continue to work on helping you get there.” I nod. “So you’ll remain here for a week to help with the transition, but Miranda has some options about going into a partial hospital care setting and we’d like you to not live on your own during this time.”

“I would like to invite you into my home, Andy,” Miranda says, seriously, and I turn to her. I don’t even know what to say as my heart squeezes in my chest. “You will still be in the hospital during the day, but you can come home and have dinner with the girls and I and sleep in a real bed.” I nod quickly and hug her tightly.

“I don’t know what to say, Miranda.”

“Then, do not say anything.”

We discuss a few more things, but Miranda seems to have the game plan and it’s a game plan that I like. The week passes at a glacially slow pace, but then Miranda arrives my last evening with Line and Roy and they take me home. The clinic sent me with some scrubs since nothing in my bag fits except clothes pre-Runway.

Line keeps me from fidgeting too much, but I’m so glad to be out of that place. I keep my arm around her and she’s keeps grinning at me. I step into Miranda’s townhouse and for the first time it feels like I’m coming home, for real.

Which I guess is good on some level, since everyone made sure I gave up my apartment in Queens for my own health and why pay for something I wasn’t even going to live in? The furniture wasn’t mine. Emily made sure everything from the Closet at Runway was returned. I’m carrying everything I own in my duffle bag again. Emily was rather thorough while I was in the hospital. 

Patricia trots up to me and gives me a drool shower. I hug her tightly and Miranda offers me a hand.

“You know your way around, but you are welcome to anything. If you get hungry or thirsty, take what you want and need. If you would like to watch or read anything, do it. Nothing is off limits in my home. My home is your home, Andrea. Do you understand?”

“Miranda?” I ask her.

“I mean it, Andrea. I consider you a member of this family,” she says. “Now, come along.” She pulls me up the stairs and takes me to one of the many guest rooms. “The girls and I set this up for you. Line was your designer.”

My heart drops out of my chest. The room is amazing. Not anything in it is Miranda-like at all, but it’s got ambient lighting. A silver-grey paint covers the walls giving it a classy look. The queen size bed is pushed up against the wall with the door with a dark blue canopy that drops around it, to be closed for privacy. It looks incredibly soft and cushy with purple blankets and a million pillows and a perfect headboard for leaning back on. There’s string lights on the wall and tapestries inside in warm colors.

Along the other wall are pictures of Miranda, the girls, Runway, and my life strewn across it—all Line’s amazing pictures including the city in this collage that brings tears to my eyes. A couch under that with a circular table over a soft moroccan rug, leading to an antique writer’s desk by a huge window with gorgeous blue curtains. There’s an apple computer, notebooks, pens, and everything I might dream of. Then, there’s a huge bookshelf lining the opposing wall—full of books and there are even some empty shelves for me to presumably fill.

I spin around to look at them, tears in my eyes.

“This is too much,” I say, unable to breathe. “It’s…It’s…”

Miranda holds me.

“You are never too much or too little. What are you, Andrea, my sweet, sweet girl?” My brain slows down and I know the answer to that.

“I’m just right,” I whisper into her ear.

“That’s my girl,” she say with a pleased smile. “Now, tell Caroline thank you.”

I spin around and now that I have both arms to hug her with that’s exactly what I do. I spin her around and drag her into the room as she laughs.

“Tell me all about what you did!” I say all Andy again. She takes me on the official tour as Miranda leans against the doorframe looking pretty damned pleased with herself.

Then, we all retreat to the living room to have a snack and watch a movie. Cassidy comes in from soccer practice midway through, takes a shower, and gives me a hug.

“Welcome home, Andy,” she says and plops down like it’s no big deal that I’ve moved in, ready to watch the last bit of the movie. She curls up next to Patricia since I’m leaning against Miranda and Line is practically in my lap, head on my stomach.

It’s a celebration, so Miranda allows another movie. Tomorrow is Saturday after all and I have my first free day in twelve weeks. 

“It’s time to wake up, my dear,” Miranda whispers in a low octave into my ear. It sends chills down my body.

“—mmm, so comfortable,” I whine. She chuckles again, squeezing me into a hug.

“I am so glad you are home where you belong, Andrea,” she whispers and helps me up, leading me to my new bedroom. She pulls back the covers as I go to the bathroom to change and I find her sitting on the couch. I’m in a set of scrubs. “We’re going to have to go shopping tomorrow, aren’t we?”

I look down at myself a little self-consciously. Wrapping my arms around myself, I feel the negative thoughts bombard me, but I try to swallow them back.

“I feel fat,” I admit. “I know I’m not.” She stands up quickly and pulls me into a hug, rocking me back and forth.

“No, you are my beautiful girl,” she murmurs. “Come to bed. We will deal with the clothing issue at a later time. Do not worry about it now.” Sighing against her, I nod. She leads me to the bed and tucks me in. I take her hand.

“This is…I don’t understand what’s happening between us,” I admit. She leans down and kisses my forehead.

“Maybe, we don’t need to think about it, right now?” she murmurs with a soft smile. “If I make you uncomfortable, merely tell me.” I shake my head.

“No, no please don’t stop ever. I…I…Miranda, you’re my best friend and more and I can’t describe everything you are to me. I don’t deserve you. Everything you’ve done…”

“Hush…” she says with an amused smile. “Tonight is for sleeping. Let tomorrow and whatever this is, take care of itself. I am not going anywhere and you are not going anywhere and I am a very patient woman.” She taps my nose playfully. What does that even mean?

“You’re waiting until I’m better, aren’t you?” I ask her and her face softens even more. She strokes my shaggy hair from my eyes.

“I think you also need to see the hairdresser, my girl,” she murmurs in soft, low voice. “Goodnight.”

“Miranda,” I say, pushing myself up on my elbows as she gets up. She looks down at me. “You didn’t answer my question.”

“Because you know the answer, Andrea,” she says mildy annoyed as she looks toward the door. “Let’s not make this more difficult than it needs to be.”

“Okay…goodnight?” I murmur, feeling my heart thump. This can’t mean what I think it means. My mind is reeling from the revelation, but everything inside of me says that it can’t be true, because there is no fucking way my goddess would want me. I’m totally fucked up, but…but on the off chance she really does…I rake my hands through my hair, collapsing back down on the bed as the door closes. I better become the best damn human being I can to be worthy of her.

***  
The next day, the Priestly women take me on a special journey. In the car, Miranda sets the ground rules.

“You must not look at the labels, no sizes or prices, Andrea. Do you understand me? Line, Cassidy, and I will bring clothes to you and you will try them on and come out. If you look then we leave and go get a snack or lunch and try again at a different place.”

“Okay, Miranda,” I say, because whatever she says goes. I’m not stupid enough to challenge her, because I know what she will say and it will melt my fucking heart and I’ll agree anyway. She leans over and kisses me on the cheek. I feel my cheeks flush as I grin to myself and Line cheers.

“Now, girls,” she admonishes happily.

“We’re going to have so much fun, Andy,” Cassidy says, lifting her eyebrows up and waggly them playfully. “Between my style and Line’s creativity, we’ll save you from Mom’s fashion elitism.”

“Elitism, well…I never,” Miranda says as if she’s absolutely shocked that has come out of Cassidy’s mouth. She harrumphs for good measure and Cassidy giggles at her reaction. I grin up adoringly at her, because the fact that she produced these amazing young women, is really no surprise, but man…they are awesome.

Shopping, no matter what they say, isn’t as fun as I thought it would be. I use to try on all these different clothes at the closet with Nigel, but anymore, I don’t know who Andy is again and it’s weird how everything pinches me in places that I haven’t felt before. My weight sits funny on me and every time I dare to look in the mirror I look fat and puffy, because I haven’t seen myself much.

I come out into the waiting room in more and more of a rush to get out of the dressing room and away from those glaring lights and mirrors to my team of cheerleaders.

Miranda sits in a chair and has her Miranda look: shake of the head for no, one nod for merely acceptable, two nods for satisfactory and a roll of the eyes for there is no way in hell.

“Can we cover the mirror?” I ask abruptly. Miranda looks up and sees I have tears rolling down my cheeks. Naturally, I feel like an idiot, because I’m getting undone by a fucking mirror.

“Let me talk to the girl,” she says and comes back with a blanket to throw over the mirror for me. Like who even does that? Somehow, Miranda can always get stuff done that no one else can.

“Thanks, Miranda,” I whisper and she hugs me tightly, holding me for a brief moment.

“No, thank you for not giving up. I know it’s hard. I only wish you had more acceptable clothing to wear. I know you will not wear your pre-runway clothing and I have to admit I am very happy about that. None of them do you any justice. Thank you for appeasing me on this. I know it is difficult.”

“No, no, I need to do this,” I admit. “I know that.” She nods.

“You are so strong, my dear,” she says and kisses my temple, hugging me. “You are so very strong and beautiful. We will make it through this.” I nod against her and wipe way my tears as the girls rush back in with handfuls for fresh clothing. 

We leave with dozens of bags and I manage to convince Miranda that chucks are appropriate for everyday wear. She rolls her eyes, but on the girls agreement, she allows the purchase. 

We stop for lunch, get into a hairstylist that gives me a boss haircut, and we hit the stores again after a snack. By the end of the day, I have blazers, jackets, a leather jacket, vests, button-ups, sweaters, slacks, corduroys, belts, camis, scarves, bow-ties, a few ties, and even a set of lady suspenders. Miranda calls me dapper on occasion while trying on things with a fond expression. And shoes…not just the chucks, but old man shoes and bowling shoes, but no boots. Miranda refuses to buy me a pair, because she knows I have a few pair of stilts and my set of boots.

We arrive home for supper in high spirits. Before we all rest in the den. I’m too tired to do much except, rest my head on Miranda’s lap as she works on the Book which is on the armrest. I fall asleep there, quite happy as the girls work on homework or projects.

Then, Miranda wakes me up to tuck me in after the girls have already gone to bed. And I have never been in a place that ever felt so right and it’s so scary as I lay in a bed that fits me better than any place I’ve ever been.

The next day is a lot more relaxed. I get up, get a shower, fix everyone breakfast, since the cook doesn’t come in on Sundays.

“Dear? What are you doing up so early?” she asks me with an amused smile. “You do not need to cook.”

“Why not? I have like professional training in nutrition and cooking now. They had real cooks come in and teach me how to since I didn’t know how,” I admit with a shrug. She shakes her head as she grabs a cup of coffee and sits down on a stool. She’s comfy in a pair of silk pajamas and a robe that isn’t closed.

“Mmm, I cannot wait then,” she admits with a wicked smile. “I only meant that I hope you do not feel obligated.”

“I don’t. You’ve been nothing but kind, Miranda, but this…I find I actually enjoy this part of the process and moreover, I love cooking for other people, especially people who mean something to me.”

“Would you like me to tell the cook to let you help her in the evenings?” Miranda asks. The offer surprises me, because it never occurred to me to even ask.

“Yes, I’d like that a lot actually,” I say. “Thanks.” She waves her hand at me as she picks up the morning paper on the island to read it and drink her coffee.

“Anything for you, darling,” she says as a side thought and I feel my insides squirm. I take a risk and lean in to kiss her cheek, before going back to work. My lips burn with the touch and I’m shaking.

 _Holy shit! You just kissed La Priestly!_

Humming, I hear the girls run down the stairs. 

“Mom, you’re totally blushing,” Cassidy says and I feel myself grin that I’m even capable of doing that. “Man, Andy that looks amazing.” She hugs me from behind and looks over my shoulder. Cassidy is model tall like her mom and already taller than me. The only person I have beat in the house is Line, for obvious reasons.

I plate the food and pass it out on the island, since everyone seems to have claimed stools. Line has already served the orange juice. I stay standing near Miranda and eat through my breakfast, feeling happy for the first the first time ever during a meal, not like I’ve had this experience in literally years.

The girls are talking about school and future projects. Miranda’s head is already in the office, and she has more work to do on the Book. My heart is swelling too big for my chest.

“Andy…you’re being quiet,” Line says, because she knows that’s not how my brain works. I look up surprised.

“I have to concentrate on eating,” I admit, “but this is also really nice. I’ve never had a lot of sit down meals ever in my life and this is…amazing.”

“Really?” Line asks. “Mom always makes sure if we’re all in the house we have to sit down and eat. She likes to have dinner with us.”

“I can see that,” I say. “When I came to New York, I worked too much to eat with my ex and when I moved out I lived alone so there wasn’t really a reason too.”

“But you had friends and stuff,” Cassidy says. “You could have eaten with them or gone out.”

“I did occasionally, but by then I had already set this pattern of not eating. Some of it was because I was convinced I couldn’t afford it, but that was a lie. I just spent my money on other things and didn’t ask for help.”

“Why didn’t you eat, Andy?” Cassidy asks. The girls have never asked me about my anorexia in all my time at the clinic. I don’t know if Miranda told them not too or they were just being their normal respectful selves, waiting for me to talk about it. I take a deep breath and look to Miranda who nods to me in encouragement.

“Only if you want to, dear,” she says. I nod to myself.

“I used it as a bad coping mechanism to deal with the feelings I was repressing. I wasn’t dealing with my emotions in a healthy way. Like some people who turn to drugs or alcoholism. I didn’t feel like I was in control of them or my life and so that was something I could control. Eating or not eating in my case. It was wrong and negatively impacted my life, my body, and the people I care most about.”

“Maybe, you should speak at the school or something, Andy,” Cassidy says. “I hear the girls talk about dieting all the time or how fat they are and they’re totally fine.”

“Yeah, you’d be so good at that, Andy!” Line encourages me. I smile at them.

“Talk to your teacher and we’ll see,” I say and Miranda reaches across the way to squeeze my shoulder. I look at her and see a look of wonder in her eyes that surprises me.


	15. Andy Saves the Day

For four weeks, I remain in a partial hospital program, before going to intensive outpatient. It’s during that time, I go to the school to speak to several classes about my struggles with anorexia and the teachers and principal are super supportive about the whole thing and invite me back to speak to other grades and classes.

I start to pick up a few writing projects to contribute to various magazines at Elias-Clark, but under Miranda’s strict supervision. She doesn’t want me to overdo it too soon, knowing full well that working too much is one of my bad coping mechanisms in life too.

Intensive outpatient lasts for another six weeks and then I drop to a biweekly visit with my therapist. By then, I’m working six hours a day for most days from home while Miranda and the girls are out at Runway and school.

I start taking self-defense classes that turn into Krav Maga practices, because I never want to be completely defenseless again. Miranda doesn’t like it, but she agrees to it, because she may be bossy, but I don’t think she’d ever stop from doing something I really wanted to do unless she thought it would genuinely hurt me.

She also makes me promise that if I ever go into an assignment in a dangerous neighborhood that I either hire a personal guard or take someone with me who is bigger and stronger than me. I agree, because I want to come home to her and the girls again.

I get a call from Spanks around that time which surprises me. After the call, I walk into Miranda’s office and she is quite comfortable editing the Book.

“Spanks just called me and she wants off the streets,” I say and plop down into the chair. Miranda’s eyes flick up.

“Who may I ask is Spanks?” she demands, looking at me from over her glasses and none to happy to be interrupted with cryptic information.

“The prostitute I was interviewing. She felt comfortable calling since her pimp, Bailey, finally got put in jail. There’s a small window where we can pick up her and her coworkers and get them into a halfway house. Can I borrow Roy?”

“Wait, you wish to borrow _my_ Mercedes and _my_ driver to pick up prostitutes and put them into a halfway house?” she asks me. “I must be hearing wrong or you have completely lost your mind.” Well, that’s Miranda for you, I think amused. I give her my best charming smile.

“It won’t be dangerous. We just drive, stop, pick them up, and go. They deserve it, Miranda.”

“They deserve it? They are prostitutes, Andrea. They sell their bodies.” I let out a slow sigh, because I know she’s just like everyone else, making huge assumptions based on what she thinks are facts, but the buck stops here for these girls, because it has to stop somewhere.

“They deserve it? Miranda, do you even know what you are talking about?” I demand and shoot up to my feet, slamming my hands down on the desk. Her eyebrows shoot up. “Those girls went into sex trafficking when they were thirteen years old. Thirteen! They were sexually and physically abused all of their lives. They were coaxed into this life by Bailey, promising them love and stability and he ended up getting them addicted to drugs, selling them out to his friends and then put them on the streets. Tell me again how a thirteen year old deserves that?”

I’m not sure when the last time Miranda has been talked to like this, but the information absorbs quickly and a look of horror crosses her face.

“Andrea, oh god…” she whispers, mouth sliding open. “I’ll call Roy. I did not know. I will come with you. Do you know where we are taking them?” Well, that was a crazy turn around. I feel my proverbial hackles drop as Miranda calls Roy. “I should have trusted you. I assumed this was your misguided selflessness that gets you in the worst trouble, but no, no, this is your wonderful selflessness.”

“My wonderful selflessness?” I murmur, because Miranda is babbling and that’s not like her at all.

“He will be here in fifteen minutes,” she says, rising to her feet and walking to the coat closet in the foyer. She passes me my leather jacket. “You do know where we are going to take them?”

“Yes,” I say in a daze, letting her slide the jacket over my shoulder. “You’re coming with me?”

“Of course, darling. We have to save Spanks and her friends, do we not? What are her friends’ name?”

“Her coworker is Smiles and Cherry. It’s their street names. They haven’t told me their real names yet,” I admit. “Miranda, you don’t have to come.”

“Yes, I do, darling. I want to understand you and I have found that by being with you I can understand you the best, because you do not always communicate everything in that pretty little head of yours.”

“Oh.” My cheeks decide to flush at the thought that Miranda thinks my head is pretty.

“Oh indeed,” she says and pats my face with a delicious smile. “Andrea…I need to talk to you.”

“Me too,” I admit.

“You go first,” she says as she opens the door for us to wait on the porch for Roy. I follow her and she closes the door behind us.

“I was wondering how long you wanted me to live with you,” I say. It’s hard to ask, because I honestly never want to leave. “You know, I have to go back to work full-time soon…and…”

“And?” she asks with a voice full curiosity.

“And…I don’t want to impose on your generosity, but you know, how much I care about you and the girls.”

“Andrea, you may stay as long as you like. If I had my way, you would never leave,” she says. “You’ve made a home here with us and I would hate for you to leave.” My heart nearly stops in my chest, tears crest but don’t fall, and I take her hand instinctively.

“You would?” I ask her. She nods, sliding her arm around my waist and pulling me close. “Thank you…” I whisper. “What did you want to talk to me about?”

“I wanted to ask you out to dinner on Friday,” she says in a casual voice. 

“F-f-friday,” I murmur surprised.

“Friday,” she says with a curt nod. “Is that acceptable for you?”

“On a date?” I ask her, feeling the pit of my stomach fall out. She smiles at me.

“Yes, dear,” she says. “I’ll pay if that’s what you’re worried about it.” What? Miranda Priestly, the fucking goddess, is asking me on a date, a real date. She looks concerned and I want to wipe it off her lovely face. “What’s the matter, dear? Did I misread the situation?” She puts some of my hair behind my ear.

“N-n-no,” I manage, feeling like such a dork. “I just…this is…I never really believed you’d want me.”

“Oh my sweet, sweet girl, of course I want you. More than anything. I adore you. Haven’t I made that clear?”

I nod.

“But…but, you don’t understand what a horrible date person I am. Before I got beat up by Bailey, I went on this date with Gloria—”

“I heard about that date with Gloria and I am not Gloria,” she says not even slightly amused.

“I know, right, but I’m me and I am terrible at this dating stuff.”

“Well, lucky for you I have a lot of experience,” she says and strokes my nose with a smile that looks like she could devour me in quick succession. My heart flutters and I feel like I’m no longer on the ground as I lean into her with a goofy grin.

“Yeah, that’s good, I guess,” I admit and her smile deepens into that lovely soft look she gets. “I really like you, Miranda.”

“Well, dear, I really like you too,” she replies and waves to Roy when he arrives. She opens the door for me and I slide in. She grabs me before I get too far and I gladly stay right next to her as I give Roy the directions.

We drive to the neighborhood where I got the shit beat out of me and I point out the girls. My heart aching to only see the two of them and not Cherry. The women slide in, and in the light of the car, it uncovers the lie of their garish make-up and reveals they are fifteen and seventeen year old girls.

“Where’s Cherry?” I ask, stopping Roy. Spanks and Smiles look at me.

“Andy, she’s dead. She died the night you were captured. They killed her when she helped you escape.”

“What?”

“We carried you to the alley and called the police,” Spanks says. Roy is driving now to the directions I gave him to the halfway house. There’s tears running down my cheeks, because Cherry and these girls risked their lives for me.

“It was our fault you got caught,” Smiles says, all of fifteen this year.

“Oh god,” I whisper. “I can’t believe…” I bite my knuckles. “It’s all my fault.”

“No, it is no one’s fault, but Bailey’s and the men who did this to you all,” Miranda says in a sharp voice. “Do you understand me?” There is a quietness that settles in the car.

“Thank you, so much for saving me,” I tell them and I mean it with every fiber of my being. “If you need anything…anything at all.”

“Finish writing that piece you were writing. You were going to ask us some questions. Do you remember what they are?”

“No, but I’ll bring my notebook once you’re settled and we’ll finish it, okay? If you’d like I can write something more in-depth about your lives too.”

“That’s good. We just…we want this to be different for other girls like us,” Spanks says. “We don’t want this to happen to anyone else.”

Miranda sniffs and looks out her window. I hold her hand, because I know this can’t be easy for her.

We drop the girls off at the halfway house and they hug me tightly. I promise to come to visit soon and the lady that runs the non-profit comes and shakes my hand.

“Thanks, Andy. I don’t know how you managed to pull this off, but I can’t thank you enough,” she says and leads the girls to their new home for now. 

Miranda wraps her arms around me when Roy drives away. She takes my chin between her thumb and index finger and brings her lips to mine. When they meet, fire blooms blooms within me, and I can’t help but part my lips and respond, leaning into the kiss—falling into the river that is Miranda..

She moans against me as her hand threads through my hair and she takes firm control over the kiss, which I don’t mind at all, because she tastes divine and wonderful and better than I could ever imagine. Then, she’s sucking my lower lip and everything short circuits as I nearly collapse against her.

“Andrea, my sweet, sweet girl….” she murmurs against me. “I am dreadfully sorry, but I could not help myself.” Her words vibrate against the skin of my cheek as she continues kissing down my jaw.

“Ah, ah,” I can’t even talk, because Miranda is consuming me mind, body, and soul. The river chuckle that is hers flows around me and sweeps me up in its rich luxurious current. “Oh my god, you’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me,” I blurt out. Her arms turn fierce and her lips return to mine, consuming me with everything she has and I’m at a complete loss, but to allow her to do so and then, I rise to occasion as a deep hunger fills me.

A tiny dream that started so small and over the years and months blossomed into a monster of a tree with roots cradled around my heart. This dream of Miranda and me together is suddenly a reality.

“I utterly adore you, my darling,” she breathes in a tiny break of our lips and hot breaths. Tears run down my cheeks and she pulls me into one of her all encompassing hugs, tucking my head under hers. “Do not cry, my dear.”

“I’ve been so emotional ever since…I’m sorry. I’m happy, I swear. I never thought I’d ever be enough.”

“Oh, my dear. You are perfect. Never too much, never too little, just right for me, my girl.” Shutting my eyes, I can’t imagine being anywhere but here with this amazing woman who has changed my life so utterly and completely.


	16. Too Good to Be True

Opening the door to the townhouse, I let Lily in, because I miss this girl and I desperately need a second opinion on this whole matter with Miranda. Life is amazing, great, like cloud nine and it all seems like this crazy dream, because I’ve never had this experience before. So something must be wrong, right?

“Hey, gal,” Lily says and this time I meet and return her hug, because those have gotten a lot easier to give with my regular hug factories Line and Miranda on hand. Lily smiles at me.

“Let me make you some coffee,” I say and start leading her through the foyer.

“Damn, Andy. This house is huge! I bet you don’t sleep on a couch here,” Lily says with a big grin. “My girl is moving up in the world!”

“You should see my room…you will see my room. Line decorated it,” I say and once I’m in the kitchen I pour us coffee.

“Decorated it?” Lily asks. “That’s sweet.”

“Other than the apartment it’s been ages since I’ve had my own space.”

“Andy, that apartment does not count. I saw it. It was a shit hole,” she says with a shudder. “How you survived in it for so long is beyond me.”

“All right, all right…well, then, this is the first place since I was a kid that I had my own place with a legit bed,” I say with a shit-eating grin. “Come on.” I motion for her to follow me with my head. “Want the grand tour while we go?”

“I might faint,” Lily says, jokingly, but I show her anyway, because as much as she talks game I know her and Gretch now have a great swanky place now. All industrial metal and contemporary art, because those guys are something else. 

When we reach my room, Lily steps in completely and does a few circles. Then, she takes a deep breath and turns to me. I’m leaning against the door frame.

“That woman really loves you,” she says suddenly. “You do know that, right?” 

“I wouldn’t go that far, but I know she cares about me a great deal,” I admit. Lily puts down her coffee, slides her arms around my neck and looks me straight in the eye.

“Andy Sachs, I’m telling you friend to friend that Miranda Priestly is in love with you,” she says seriously. I swallow. “Do you love her?” I nod quickly, because there is no lying about that. “You scared?” I nod again. “Come on.” She leads me to the couch and we sit down. I have to put down my coffee, because I’m shaking really hard now.

“She asked me out on a date this Friday,” I tell Lily and she smiles softly.

“Miranda is something else, isn’t she? Why are you scared, Andy?”

“I never told you what happened that night I got kicked out. I’m sorry. If I should have told someone it should have been you.”

She smiles at me sadly.

“But you didn’t talk to anyone back then, Andy. Hell, neither did I, but you had a lot more reasons now that I think about it. Go ahead and tell me, I promise I won’t be mad.” So I do and she’s quiet for a long time. “The teacher and the principal who caught you must have not said anything, because no one talked about it.”

“I’m sure, good ole Dad must have paid someone off,” I say with a fake cheery smile. She nods.

“That bastard. It’s probably better you didn’t tell me. I was a different person back then. Hell, you knew how secretive I was in college.” I nod. “I’m sorry, Andy.”

“No, I’m sorry too, but you don’t need to apologize. You saved my life back then. You let me stay with you and your mom. You looked out for me in college. Sure, we weren’t perfect, but we’ve always had each other’s backs for the most part.” She hugs me tightly. “I trust you, Lily.”

“Andy,” she whispers. “Thanks. You don’t know what that means to me.” 

“I love you, Lily.”

“I love you too, Andy.”

We separate and both of us are crying like idiots, even though Lily never cries, but I guess, this constitutes as something worth crying over.

“When did you know Gretch was the one?” I ask her and she nods. 

“By the way, we set the wedding date and you are my maid of honor and you’re totally helping me set up this wedding with Gretch.”

“Oh yeah? That’s a tall order. I’m calling in reinforcements, aka Cassidy and Caroline.”

“Fine,” she says and pops out her tongue. “Just because this room is fucking awesome and so are you. Maybe, Line will take the pictures at my wedding?”

“We’ll have to ask her and talk to Miranda, of course,” I say. “But I can ask.”

“Please, do. So…” Lily takes a deep breath. “I don’t think I can possibly compare Gretch and mine’s romance to yours. I mean it’s fucking good. I love her more than life itself and I guess for me it became more real when I realized I couldn’t imagine living life without her. It was too depressing, you know?” I nod, because I know exactly what she means. “How do you really feel about Miranda? I mean, it’s not traditional in any sense of the word. I mean, I guess when you commit, you go big.” I chuckle at that.

“Guess so. I’ve always worshipped Miranda. I think you knew that. She was everything I wasn’t. Beautiful, confident, and had her life together. Then, when I moved on from Runway, I didn’t even realize something was missing until one night Miranda and I started talking about six months after I’d left. It was the easiest thing in the world for us. I don’t know how to describe it. It’s like we’re comfortable together.”

Lily eases back and waves her hand to get me to keep talking.

“After Nate, I guess, I sort of shutdown and quit talking about a lot of things, because I was trying to be this person I wasn’t. But Miranda could get me to talk about work and my friends. About my little problems like deadlines and a fight with you. She just made sense and god, making her laugh after a few drinks…” I sigh content. “Making her happy, makes me happy. She and the girls are the only reason I’m alive today. I’m not sure I could have found a reason to keep going. It’s nothing against you, but you found your life with Gretch and the art gallery.”

“I know. That woman, she was there for you in ways I could never be. She stopped everything to be with you and sit with you. She kept me updated the whole way through your process until you went into the partial care and we could meet up again. She really loves you, Andy.”

“You don’t think I’m in over my head?”

“I think being in love is being in over your head,” Lily admits. “It’s beautiful, messy, but it’s worth it. I don’t think you can walk away from this, Andy. I know I’ve given shitty advice before about your love life, but I know for a fact Miranda would do anything to love, protect, and care for you, because I’ve seen how she is with you. I’ve met her girls. She is nothing like Nate or your father.”

“I know…I’d tell you if she’d ever hurt me, because…because I’m different now. She’s bossy, stubborn, and she thinks she’s always right, but she’s also the most loving, caring, and passionate person I’ve ever met. I don’t know why she picked me.”

“The same reason you picked her, Andy. You’re passionate, loving, and caring too. But I don’t think you know that. You act all tough, but you’re one of the most selfless people I know.”

“Am not,” I whine. 

“Andy, shut up,” she says with a big grin. “I wouldn’t tell you this if it weren’t true. The way you beat the hell out of yourself, you’ve got to stop. I mean, I don’t want you to be an ass about this, but you’re a decent person, who deserves love. Even if you are a stubborn ass sometimes. And you got the only person in the whole world who’ll probably get you and love you for you are, because you’re one crazy son of a bitch.”

I laugh at that.

“I am, aren’t I?” Lily nods and shakes her head as she looks at the room again.

“She made a room for you.”

“And she bought me a whole new wardrobe.”

“Which is pretty damn sexy,” Lily says, tugging on my blazer. “Does this mean you’re wearing a suit to my wedding?” I nod with a smile. “I always thought you looked kind of hot in your suits.”

“Nate called me a dyke when I wore a suit from the office,” I say suddenly, because it hits me hard and fast in the gut. “That was the first day, he ever hit me hard enough to bruise on the face and make me bleed.”

“Shit, Andy, I’m so sorry. You know you’re sexy as hell in whatever you wear,” she says and reaches out to touch my arm. I don’t flinch this time.

“Thanks,” I say, but my voice is distant. “She gives me so much…I’m not sure what I can give back”

“Andy, I don’t think it works that way in love. I think you give her something else that’s much more valuable than clothes or furniture. I mean, look at this wall of photos. Like here, you, Line, and Cassidy at the soup kitchen together. Would that have ever happened without you? Would these pictures? As I recall you contacted me about three years ago and made peace to ask me about this girl and damn, look at these pictures! She’s really grown.”

I feel my cheeks turn red.

“I bet Miranda fell in love with you for a lot of reasons, but touching the lives of her girls probably won her over.”

“You don’t think she pities me, do you?”

“Hell no, I think that woman has been through some fire herself and understands that life is difficult and fucked up, but the beauty is in these moments when you can let go and just love someone despite everything the world offers to separate you. You’ve had a million reasons to give up on people, like everyone in your life and never love again. I’d hate that for you. If anyone deserves to find happiness. It’s you and that woman is willing to give you everything.”

I swallow.

“She’s the best thing that’s ever happened to me. Not just for the money, but bringing Line into my life. I feel like Line is the first person who ever accepted everything about me and still thought I was worth it. She made me feel safe enough to do that and I think she gets that from Miranda…”

“Baby girl, I don’t know what you’re trying to ask me anymore?”

“I don’t know either. It just seems too good to be true.”

“You better run with it then,” Lily says with a grin. “Because this is a once in a lifetime offer, Andy, and it won’t come again.”

***

Friday arrives and I put on one of the blazers and pants with a bowtie for Miranda. One of the ones she said I looked dapper in, instead of a classic suit, because if I know anything about Miranda—playing it safe fashion-wise is not her game. Grey slacks, old man shoes, gray button-up, blue bowtie with my suspenders and a forrest green blazer with deep brown elbow pads.

She meets me downstairs in the foyer looking amazing. I’ve never seen this style of dress before. It’s like she’s stepped out of the 1920’s in an elegant form fitting white master-piece, perfectly designed for her. Thin straps, a low bodice, incredibly intricate designs that cover the dress, ending in an uneven skirt. The front stopping near her knees, slightly sheer and the back dropping to just above her ankles. She truly looks like a goddess, beautiful, amazing, and all my Miranda.

She looks over me, hand threading through my hair and there is an almost hungry look in her eyes when she smiles and nods twice.

“You clean up nice, dear,” she murmurs into my ear and I blush at the high praise from La Priestly herself.

“I had some help,” I admit. Line picked out the outfit herself as Cassidy helped me with my makeup. Speaking of which the girls are literally bouncing around us, they are so happy and excited. Cassidy fishes out a grey beret, dropping it on my head, before Line takes like twelve pictures. Miranda tells the girls to run along now, hand possessively on my hip and looking amused.

“I feel like I’m finally going to prom. Maybe, I should have gotten you a corsage or something,” I say to her. A laugh pops out of her quite suddenly and I grin at her. She smacks my shoulder.

“Oh, Andrea,” she murmurs and I grab one of her nice shawls and drop it over her shoulders. She catches the door handle before me and opens it, tsking. “No matter how you are dressed, Andrea, I invited you on this date.” My cheeks flush at that. Go figure, Miranda would do things her own way.

Roy is waiting in the car and Miranda opens the door for me again. So I slide in and she catches my arm like she did when we helped Spanks and Smiles and makes sure I don’t get too far away from her.

“So are you going to tell me where we are going?” I ask. She smiles at me like a sphynx, so I figure that’s a no. Then, she shrugs.

“It’s not like you’ll recognize the name,” she says with a wicked glint in her eyes. “Where is your sense of adventure, Andrea?”

“I think, I lost it at some point,” I admit with a wry smile.

“Do you trust me?” she asks. I nod quickly.

“Of course,” I say with a dopey smile and she wraps an arm around me, making a pleased noise.

“That’s my girl,” she murmurs and kisses my temple. “I think you will enjoy it.”

“Miranda, are you sure you want to do this?” I blurt out, because sticking my foot in my mouth is something Andy does and does quite well. She looks very confused by that question.

“I thought you would know by now, I do not do anything without great consideration. I have thought about this for quite some time. I had plenty of time to consider being with you while you were in the hospital in a coma and later when you were in full care at the clinic.”

“No, I don’t mean like that. I know you want to be with me. I meant…you’re not worried about you and the girls.”

“Why would being with you affect that?” she asks, looking slightly relieved but still confused.

“What if someone sees us? I mean, people know who you are Miranda and what if it gets all over page six—” She places a finger on my lips, looking smug and wonderful and all goddess-like.

“My dear, sweet girl,” she murmurs, nuzzling my hair and something warm and safe fills me again as the crazy anxiety is banished yet again by the mere touch of Miranda. “I do not, nor will I ever care what is on page six. I am a grown woman who will date and love anyone I choose too. I am quite firmly ensconced in my position at Runway and Elias-Clark now and I fear, nothing but my own retirement could remove me from the publication. Let alone, something as minor as who I choose to be with in my romantic life. I am in fashion. You are a writer. We live in New York City. It will be fine, Andrea. The girls love you and I doubt anyone will even care next month who I am dating outside the fashion world. Are you worried about your own position?”

“Um, no, I didn’t even think about it. I mean, no one has cared before who I dated,” I admit. “I don’t talk about it much, but I don’t know. I can’t imagine anyone caring at Elias-Clark or…or anything. I mean that’s discrimination, isn’t it?”

“Precisely,” Miranda says. “Even if we were merely friends and I heard your position was being jeopardized over your orientation I would defend you. But as someone I adore, I guarantee your position at Elias-Clark is safe, but I have a good feeling that you will be finding a great deal of work outside the publication.”

“What makes you say that?” I ask. She smiles at me as if she knows a wonderful secret that only she knows.

“Andrea…” She shakes her head, smile widening slowly. “You’ve got two or more stories that are going to put you out of the magazines and into the journalism landscape. You have books inside of you that need to be written and I know publishers who would die to have those books in their hands. You’ve got a lot a work ahead of you and it’s not with Elias-Clark, my dear girl.” My heart thumps a little faster in my chest.

“Miranda, as long as I’m with you and the girls and writing whatever…I’ll be a happy camper.”

“That may be so, but I know how you get when you are fighting for a cause. While I never want you to lose yourself completely like you did before, for our girls’ sakes, I do not want to completely remove you from what you are capable of either. I have seen it with my own eyes, Andrea. You’ve changed Caroline’s life. You’ve changed Spanks and Smiles’ lives. You are an advocator and soon you will be advocating for other people with eating disorders, teenagers, the homeless, and prostitues. Maybe, one day you will advocate for that little girl in the closet who was so like you or the woman who getting beat by her husband…because Andy, you have a lot to say and the world deserves to hear it.”

“I don’t know what to say, Miranda.”

“Then, don’t say anything. We will discuss this later,” she says, patting my hand, firmly tucked in her own. She kisses it like she frequently does. “It’s nothing you need worry about now on our date, mind you. I merely want you to know that you have a lot to offer, that with me you are safe. You need not fear for your position by being with me, because you have so much more to offer this world than being a contributor at Elias-Clark.”

“You really meant it, didn’t you? What you said about protecting me.”

She nuzzles my nose and my heart melts in my chest as I search those wonderful cerulean colored eyes.

“I did. I will do everything in my power to protect you from all the forces in the world that might hurt you, Andrea, even yourself.”


	17. Miranda's Girl

We arrive to a Manhattan rooftop lounge. A waiter leads us to these massive circular booths that I’m sure are for larger parties, but it’s Miranda and what Miranda wants, she gets, because she might as well be the queen. 

Lights hang down from Greek parthenon style columns with specialized burgundy draperies. There’s a reflective pool in the center and only a few tables scattered around the edges. Opposite of us is a stage where an amazing soft jazz and blues band is playing live, like Etta James and Miles Davis style music. The way this place makes Miranda glow sets everything inside of me on fire.

When our waiter arrives, she takes a single menu, giving me a look that makes me blush. I know exactly why she did that, because she doesn’t want me to see the prices.

“I’m going to spoil you tonight, because my girl deserves to be spoiled,” she says casually as she looks over the menu with a critical eye. “Do you feel like seafood…steak?”

“Seafood,” I say quietly.

“Scallops?” I nod. “They make some of the best in the city. It’s divine.” 

“Sounds amazing,” I say with a smile. The waiter returns and Miranda looks him over with a a mild frown.

“We’ll start with your grilled oysters, two house salads, scallops Cacio e Pepe, and the Wagyu ribeye, rare, with a side of your seasonal vegetables. Pair her scallops with your best white Burgundy and mine with an excellent red Bordeaux. Make sure the chef pairs it correctly, spare no expense.”

“Excellent choices, Ms. Priestly,” he says and quickly leaves. She turns back to me and I swear the candlelight flickers and makes her a goddess. My mouth is suddenly dry and her eyes look over me one more time with that critical, devouring look.

She tugs at my blazer a little, looking smug.

“You look so good, Andrea,” she murmurs. “You could be one of my models.” Her eyelids flutter as her cheeks turn slightly pink. “My gorgeous girl.” I find myself sliding closer to her. “Take off your jacket first. You’ll get warm.” I slide it off and hang it on the hook nearby. Then, I finish sliding over to her, feeling her arm wrap easily around my waist. “Perhaps I underestimated the benefits of your Krav Maga sessions.”

Now, it’s my turn to feel my cheeks color.

“Miranda, stop, please,” I say, chuckling. “I could say the same for you. My brain is short circuiting, because you look so…so…captivating, radiant…I mean, just…There aren’t any good words to even describe you, except maybe…wow.”

“Wow, Andrea? Really?” Miranda says, arching an eyebrow. Well, now I feel like an idiot and I look away. “I do believe you are the first person to say _that_ to me.” She leans forward, catching my chin and there is that wicked gleam in her eyes as our foreheads touch. 

“I’m sorry. I could write you a better poem on your beauty than actually tell you,” I say embarrassed as her lips catch mine in a chaste kiss. She breathes in deeply and closes her eyes.

“It was a valiant and admirable effort,” she says, tucking me back under her arm.

“Divine…” I whisper more to myself. “But you’re always divine.”

“Mmm, what was that, my dear?” she purrs.

“I didn’t think of it, because I always think it in my head, but I never say it aloud to you. You’re obviously divine, you’re a goddess.”

“Oh Andrea,” she breathes and I know I’ve won with that one. I peek up at her and her cheeks are definitely pink now.

“I-I mean it, but you’re divine all the time. Whether it’s in one of your Chanel dresses or in your silk pajamas. You have always been a goddess in my eyes.” She kisses my temple.

“Hush now,” she murmurs, clearly pleased. “You had me with wow, dear.” I give a tiny grin and she bumps me. “Such a charmer.”

“I’ve heard that,” I reply. She let’s out a soft huff that I’ve put on the list of the laughs of Miranda Priestly. She has an indulgent look in her eyes as her hand rises to the table and starts tapping out a languid beat with the jazz musicians. Right now, the sax, piano, and drum players softly pour out their souls into their craft.

“Tell me, my dear, are you happy?” she asks quite out of the blue. “I wish for you to be happy with me and the girls.”

“Is this because I asked about moving out?” I ask curiously. “Because that’s not what I meant at all.”

“Yes and no. I want you to be happy in general. I would have asked you one way or the other to be honest.”

“I’m probably the most content I have ever been in my life, Miranda. Honest. I think that’s what scares me so much.”

“Scares you, darling? You’ve nothing to be frighten of,” she assures me, scratching my lower back. Before she switches to soothing circles. I feel something unwind in me at the mere mention of those words and the touch of her magic fingers..

“I’ve never had a successful relationship.”

“Who has? Are we not lucky to even find love while we have it?” she murmurs thoughtfully. “This kind of…care.”

“You can call it love. It scares me, but I won’t run away,” I murmur. She nods with a soft smile.

“Our sort doesn’t happen frequently. We must not take it for granted,” she says, with a soft regretful look in her eyes as she strokes my hair from my eyes.

“Miranda?”

“Hmm?”

“Do you have regrets in your romantic life?” I ask softly, not sure if it is a good question or not, but she doesn’t look angry. Just vaguely sad and amused.

“Of course, I do. While I’ll never regret having my girls…I think I have missed this sort of companionship. There was a special girl, not like you…much bolder and more wild. She wasn’t ready to settle nor was I, but we did love each for a time. Perhaps things could have been different, but our paths never crossed again and now, I know…you are what I’ve been missing in my life, not some dream of a woman.” She strokes my cheek gently. “You, dear? Any regrets?”

I shake my head.

“I always worshiped you, seriously, Miranda.”

“It isn’t uncommon for my assistants to develop a crush on me.”

“This isn’t a crush, Miranda,” I say a little annoyed. 

“Yes, I know. I meant when you first started. It most likely was a crush. We are far, far from mere crushes and affairs I dare say.” I relax back into her arms.

“What I’m trying to say is that no girl or woman or man could possibly compare with you. It’s like comparing cheap wine to the finest. They don’t compare.” 

“You’re being charming again, dear,” she says still amused.

“Are you happy, Miranda?” I ask and she honestly looks surprised by the question. She thinks about it carefully.

“There was a time I wasn’t, but you swept into my life,” she says with a sigh. “I was dissatisfied and I couldn’t put my finger on why. It continued even while we were meeting, but it eases when I’m around you, but I couldn’t figure out why. That is until you were gone. It was a sort of lonely restlessness is the only way I can describe it. Prickly in the most uncomfortable sense of the word and only your companionship is the salve.”

“I know what you’re talking about. Work can’t fill the void, friends, or drink…”

“No,” she admits with a shake of her head. “Nothing can…not even my girls could fill it, but you, my sweet girl were more than enough to fill that hole in my life. So yes, I am more content than I have ever remembered feeling. Perhaps even happy. I am happy in this moment with you.” She takes my hand again and kisses it. “Please, say you’ll be mine. Just mine, Andrea. I could not bear it if you were dating any others. We can discuss the details later, but…I cannot share you at this moment.”

“I am yours, Miranda,” I breathe. “Forever and always.” She gasps softly and I nuzzle her soft cheek, feeling the heat curl up there.

“Ah-hem,” the waiter announces himself and passes out our starters and salad with the wine.

“Delightful,” Miranda says, slightly annoyed by the waiter’s entrance, but we are soon eating. “Don’t feel like you have to eat all of this, but the scallops I insist on.”

“Thanks,” I murmur, because I still rely on Miranda to tell me sometimes if I’m eating too little. So I cruise through the salad and she talks about the oysters, which are amazing.

Then, our meals arrive and it’s probably the best food I’ve ever eaten in my life. Miranda looks sated and happy after she finishes most of her steak. I’ve never seen a woman who looks like a lioness on a date, but Miranda manages it. 

We’ve drank through a glass and half of wine and I’m feeling it a little after going light on the alcohol for so long. Mainly it’s for the antidepressant and anxiety med I take on the regular now. Those two don’t go well together, but on nights like these I don’t mind bending the rules carefully.

“Shall we dance, my darling?” she murmurs. “Then, if you are up to it, perhaps we can share a dessert?”

“Dance? With me? You want to?” I must sound like an idiot, because she chuckles delightedly as she grabs my hand and drags me out of the booth. We join the other dancers on the dance floor in front of the band. They are playing _Somewhere Over the Rainbow_ as she places my hands in the correct position and starts rocking me back and forth, leading naturally. Especially since I have no idea what I’m doing and I’m not exactly the most graceful person in the world. It’s not like I ever slow-danced with Nate or Emily.

“You’ve never danced I take it?” she asks me. I shake my head.

“Not like this. Not slow. Sometimes, Emily and I will dance at a bar, but it’s more for letting off steam. We never dance like this.” She pulls me close possessively with a quick jerk and I gasp as she smiles wickedly.

“Good,” she says, claiming my lips. “I’ll teach you how to dance soon.”

“I’d like that,” I murmur. “Will you always lead?” She chuckles again.

“Maybe,” she replies amused and tilts her head to the side. “Do you not like it when I lead, An-dre-a?” And the way she says my name with an extra emphasis on each of the syllables absolutely drives me insane.

“You can lead me whenever and wherever you want if you say my name like that again,” I say, lifting my eyebrows and giving her a dopey smile. Now, she let’s out her delightful full and free laugh.

“Oh, my girl. What am I going to do with you?” she declares.

“Dance with me? Wine and dine me? Spoil me, apparently.” She looks at me with such a loving look that I feel like I’m floating.

“I absolutely adore you, my darling. I’ll spoil you rotten as long as you allow me to do so,” she says. I swallow.

“You don’t have to, Miranda. I’m happy…I’m happy with just you and the girls. No bells and whistles needed.”

“Oh, I must insist on all the bells and whistles,” she says in a low voice that sends chills down my spine. I tuck my head against her shoulder, feeling a bit overwhelmed. “I’ve waited so long for a girl to spoil and if you are going to be _my girl_ then I will happily spend the rest of my days spoiling you.”

“I want to be your girl, just your girl,” I whisper. “I want to be enough.”

“You are.” She sighs again and I can tell she is really happy and relaxed and that makes me relaxed and happy too.

“Miranda?”

“Yes?”

“This is everything.”

“What does that mean, my darling?” she purrs.

“I-I don’t know. You just make everything perfect and you make me a better person.”

“As do you, Andrea.”

After a few more songs, we settle back down into our seat and she orders something chocolate and sinful. She pairs it with a Cabernet Sauvignon for me and it fits perfectly again with the dessert we’re eating. Neither of us can eat all of it, because it’s so indulgent and rich.

We keep flirting and talking, tongues even more loosened by the good drink. She slips into talk about work and I follow after. The girls aren’t far behind and we lose track of the time as the band starts to pack up and the restaurant begins to close.

“Oh my,” Miranda breathes with a content smile as she leads me out into the city. “That was divine.” She can make even a concrete sidewalk, streetlights, and the never-ending traffic of Manhattan gorgeous just by being present. The air is filled with adventure, honks, and the occasional yelling New Yorker that makes me smile.

“Good choice,” I reply as she opens the door of the Mercedes for me. Roy winks at me when I slide in and I give him a thumbs up.

“Don’t be crude, you two,” she murmurs stiffly, but there is a twinkle in her eyes as she pulls me against her. I could live here forever against her. “Turn on my favorite station. More Jazz.”

“Yes, more Jazz,” I declare and she steals my lips in a fiery kiss. Roy kindly raises the partition between us for some privacy as it deepens. I lose myself in everything Miranda. Her tongue dominating and strong as I catch the taste of her lips, chocolate and deep red wine flavors. Miranda all over.

We’re both a little flustered when we reach the townhouse door. Miranda finally pulls away and looks at me carefully, pupils large and round.

“You are worth more than a quick flop in the bed,” she says, lifting her chin. My cheeks flame at her words. “And…” The door opens as we step inside. She checks to see if the girls are about. “Come along…I wish to speak with you.”

She leads me by the blazer to my room and drops me on the couch while she gracefully glides down next to me, looking concerned.

“What’s the matter? I thought…we were doing good? Did I mess something up? I always screw something up…I’m so sorry,” I say desperately and she slides closer, hugging me close.

“Hush, darling. It’s none of those. It’s not you. You are perfect. You are so beautiful and young…” she says, eyes roving over me again and I flush, swallowing at the look in her eyes. Then, something darker enters them and she looks away. Is she afraid?

“What is it then, Miranda?”

“I do not want you to think that you have to…if I’m undesirable in any way…I will not be offended if you only wish for a more platonic relationship…”

“Platonic? Are you saying you don’t want to hav sex with me, Miranda?” I ask hurt, wrapping my arms around my stomach. Her eyes widen.

“No!” She exclaims. “Quite the opposite. I find you quite attractive…sexually. If you do not wish to have…sexual relations with me. If I am…well, you know that I am older than you by quite a bit and my body…Andrea. I am far from perfect. I’ve had children and—”

I kiss her hard and passionately, pulling her against me as she moans softly into my mouth.

“Miranda…you’re gorgeous and when you are ready I will gladly worship your body the way it deserves to be worshiped. Understood?” I say fiercely. “You’re a goddess, a fucking brilliant goddess—sorry for my language—but it’s true! A few stretch marks and wrinkles—if you even have any—” She hits my shoulder playfully giving me a warning look with a lifted eyebrow. “Will never deter me.” I smile at her and her eyes slowly meet mine, softening the edge of worry there.

But I know the only way I will be able to fully alleviate her deep-seated fears is to show her, but I can’t do that until she’s ready and it’s clear she’s going to play this a bit old school. Which I don’t mind. It’s classy, in my opinion, and I like the precedence of this being different from my other escapades. Miranda deserves this to be special and perfect.

“You are too good for me,” she admits, shaking her head.

“Miranda?”

Her eyebrows lift and her lip twitches.

“You’re never too much or too little…you’re just right,” I say and this time she leans into me, putting her head against my shoulder. I grab a blanket and wrap it around us as we curl up on the couch. Neither of us wanting the night to end.

We stay like that for I don’t know how long, fighting sleep because neither of us want to separate.

“Miranda,” I murmur sleepily.

“Yes, dear,” she says, yawning.

“Can I sleep next to you tonight? I don’t want you to go,” I whine a little and she chuckles.

“I suppose, darling,” she says. “Let me go get changed and I’ll return.”

“What? You’re coming back to my room?”

“I do like it very much,” she says with a wink as she rises and sashays out of the room. Goddess, that she is.

I rock to my feet with a groan and quickly change into one of my old soft t-shirts and a pair of new pajama pants, cleaning off my makeup. Brushing my teeth, I check them a few times to make sure there isn’t anything stuck in them. Nerves are picking at my insides now and it’s annoying, because it isn’t like we haven’t slept in the same bed before. We did it in the hospital, but this is oh, so different.

_What did you get yourself into, Sachs?_

When I return to the room, Miranda is already in my bed in her purple silk pajamas. My heart literally falls out of my chest and I have to stumble to the bed. She pulls back the covers and I slip into the warmth that is her. I look up at her with uncertainty in my eyes.

“We don’t have to do this if you don’t want to,” she says reading me all wrong again. I shake my head, stroking her cheek.

“I don’t want to mess this up. I’m so scared I’m going to mess this up,” I murmur, moisture in my eyes as she pulls me to her, hugging me. Closing my eyes, she consumes me and I don’t want to be anywhere else.

“Oh my sweet, sweet girl,” she murmurs again and I could hear those words forever and ever without growing tired of them. “You have nothing to fear.” She strokes my hair from my eyes, reaching up to turn out the main light so we are only lit by the strand lights. My breath hitches because even without makeup she is glorious.

“You’re so beautiful.”

“Charmer.”

“I can’t believe you thought I didn’t want to have sex with you.” She rolls her eyes. “When can we have sex again?”

“You millennials,” she harrumphs. “Soon. Isn’t it the third date that it is appropriate these days? I do not want to rush you.”

“No, this is nice. I don’t want to rush you either,” I murmur. “I’m just being dumb. I don’t need a time or dates or anything like that.”

“You are not dumb. Impatient…stubborn…ridiculous, but never dumb.”

“Thanks,” I say wryly and she kisses my nose with a smile that’s all Miranda. “Shit, I might care for you more than is a appropriate for the first date.”

“Language, dear. I do not find that charming at all.”

“Oh, I know, sorry,” I say. “I’m trying to clean up my act around you.”

“And a fine job you have been doing. I am so very proud of you, Andrea, for how far you have come in life…for the woman you have become.” I nuzzle deeper into her and her arms tighten around me. All I want to do is share how much I love her and it’s getting increasingly harder not to say it.

“I can thank you for a lot of that,” I whisper, kissing against the place where her jaw and ear meet. “My All, My Everything. You’re the best thing in my life.” She sighs against me.

“What am I going to do with you?” she murmurs and I feel her smile against my temple. I feel her words vibrating through my bones, deep and true.

“Mmm, adore me? Cuddle and hold me close,” I whisper. “I feel so lucky, like how did I end up with my goddess? You literally fell from the sky and into my arms.”

“Oh, now you will whisper lines of poetry in my ear, sweet girl? You only need to be sleepy and tipsy,” she says with a warm chuckle. I laugh with her, because I guess, she’s right.

“How can you even put up with me?”

“I am not exactly the easiest either, darling, but you know that.”

“Last time, I checked you haven’t had me pick up your no-foam skim latte with an extra shot at 120 degrees lately.”

“Oh! You still remember,” she says impressed. 

“You’re going to ask me to grab you one in the morning, aren’t you?” I reply. “And of course, I remember. I picked up your coffee for like a year. It’s hard to forget.”

“Mmm, I hope one day soon I’ll have your coffee order memorized. You’re favorite foods, drinks, everything…”

“My favorite girls are all in this house.” 

She snorts.

“Perhaps a favorite book. Is it the Great Gatsby? That’s the only book you own, besides the grammar and comic book.”

“That comic book is a graphic novel. And, yeah, the Great Gatsby actually is my favorite. I found that copy at a secondhand store. The same one I bought most of my old clothes from.”

“That’s where you got them from,” she says, teasingly. I nod as she strokes my lower back, fingers climbing under my shirt. I shiver against her. “Ticklish?”

“Just not used to being touched.”

“I’m going to change that,” she whispers. “Why the Great Gatsby?”

“My family was pretty well off. I think I’ve always missed the safety net of wealth after I left and I guess, Gatsby’s obsession with wealth in the 20’s was something that hit a chord with me, but it also reminded me how twisted money could potentially make people…also like my family. It’s just deep and beautiful and it means something to me.”

“Did you fall for me because of my wealth?” Her voice is quiet and vulnerable.

“No, not your wealth so much as your success,” I admit quietly, nuzzling her cheek to comfort her. “While I love your townhouse now, because of the people within it and this special home you’ve made for me…I use to not like it at all. When I’d drop off the Book, all I saw was those flights of stairs and the foyer. It was a source of anxiety, because it reminded me of my family and it symbolized all the pressures of the office.”

“But now?” she asks and I smile, hearing the concern.

“Now, it’s home. It’s where the buzzing in my head stops and there’s peace and contentment. There’s people who care for me and accept me for who I am and people I care just as much for,” I admit and she truly relaxes. “Thanks for that.”

“The door is always open for you, my girl. As you must know, I’m a bit enchanted by the 20’s. With my passion for jazz and fashion. It is an extremely iconic era.”

“Right, go figure, especially with how you like my dapper suits so much” I say and she chuckles. “We’re quite a pair, aren’t we?” She kisses my cheek.

“Oh darling,” she purrs. “Every day, you are with me…it becomes harder and harder to imagine what it was to live without you.”

“Same,” I murmur. “Thanks for such a perfect night. I’ve never had a date…like this, so perfect and wonderful.”

“I told you I was experienced,” she replies amused. 

“Hey…” I say and frown. She chuckles.

“Jealous?” she asks and I nod. “No need to be. I’m only yours, darling.”

“I just meant…it’s never been like this before.”

“I think it’s us, darling. I’ve been on many dates, but the spark you have is like ambrosia to me. I simply cannot have enough, Andrea. You intrigue me, charm me, make me laugh, and I cannot wait to show you everything that you have not experienced yet and find more new things to experience with you.”

“That sounds brilliant, but I also just want to cuddle with you, kiss you, eat meals with you, and sit with you while working…I want to make love with you so many times that we will be intimate with our bodies, souls, and minds in ways that only we will ever know.” Miranda is kissing me again. “I want everything.”

“Then, you shall have it, my girl.”


	18. Third Date Rule

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So...I don't know how much you guys are enjoying this fluffy stuff, but I'm having a good time after all Andy's been through. This chapter includes some sexy times, so once Andy and Miranda get home from the gala if you don't want to read it stop there.
> 
> Also, I'm sensing the wrap up of this story is pretty soon. In fact, I've started the epilogue. The only thing I'm missing is Lily and Gretch's wedding. Do you guys want to see Miranda and Andy at that or shall we move along to the end of the story? Also is there anything you want to know about to tie up any loose ends?

The keys clack under my fingertips as I put the finishing touches on one of my collaboration pieces for Runway, a brief article that pairs Sandra’s recent story with mine and even Miranda’s on our experiences with Anorexia. I’m quite proud of it, smiling at it and feeling happy with the content that I’ve been asked to produce, but also there’s a bittersweet edge to it.

I’m going on a year long sabbatical in a few weeks as Miranda requested. It was her idea and it’s good one. I wasn’t ever going to write books or finish my piece with Spanks and Smiles working full-time at Elias-Clark. There’s so much writing to do, but the next year is going to mark a whole new branching out for me. All thanks to one Miranda Priestly, who has opened up the avenue for me to do this.

I stretch out my stiff shoulder. It still gives me problems occasionally, so I stand up. Rolling my shoulders, I feel the tendon stretch and run through a few exercises the PT suggested for moments like these. Then, I step out into the nearly empty office.

“Hey, Brian,” I say peeking over the cubicle wall. He blinks at me like an owl from staring at his computer. He shoves his thick glasses farther up on his nose.

“Good to see ya, Andy,” he says. “Everything okay?”

“Great. How’s Annie?” I ask, meaning his long-time girlfriend. He smiles.

“Pissed that I’m not home for dinner, but I’m going to make it up to her tomorrow on our anniversary. I’m taking half the day off, bringing her flowers, the whole shebang.” I smile at him.

“Sounds great.”

“How’s the Dragon Lady?” he asks me and I smile affectionately at the moniker that doesn’t seem to fit Miranda anymore for me. She’s so different with people she actually let’s in.

“You know, she’s amazing. I never have a dull moment with her,” I say and he grins at me. No one outside of Miranda’s inner circle would believe me anyway, so no use trying to soften her image. She wouldn’t want that anyway. It’s how she gets things done.

“I bet. I got to finish this up, Andy. See ya next week?” 

I give him a thumbs up and walk to the elevators. It’s late, but I know exactly where Miranda is and it’s up, not down today. The Runway office is quiet. I pass by Nigel’s office first and wave to him. He looks up with a smile.

“Hey, baby girl,” he hums. “Busy night on the presses here.”

“Just wanted to spend some time in Miranda’s proximity,” I admit, feeling like a dork. The girls are at their Dad’s house with Patricia, so I have no desire to be at the townhouse by myself with nothing to do. He shakes his head.

“Aren’t you guys cute,” he drawls and waves me away. Miranda still has one of her assistants sitting at the desk, even though it’s ten o’clock at night.

“Hey, Shae,” I say, leaning over her desk. She looks up at me with a bright smile, not even trying to hide the book she was reading.

“Oh Andy! How are you? Miranda is very busy with the Book tonight,” she says, looking a little sheepish. “There was an issue with one of the spreads. Nigel and her are battling it out on how to fix it.”

“Any calls?” I ask. She shrugs.

“You know how she is,” she whispers. “She doesn’t want to be interrupted.” 

“She won’t mind me and I’ll see if I can’t get you off,” I say with a wink and step into Miranda’s office without knocking. She has a frown on her face when she looks up, ready to lash out at whoever is going to prevent her from getting her goal accomplish. Then, her face melts into a soft expression.

“Oh Andrea,” she breathes. I cross to her, bend down to kiss her quickly, and stay nearby—arm on the back of her chair and the other on the desk.

“Mind if I kick out your assistant and take over? I just want to be near you,” I ask. It’s something that has happened occasionally when she works late. Me showing up and working or resting on the couch until she’s done.

“Of course, dear,” she murmurs. “Make yourself at home.” I kiss her temple and leave her to it. 

Then, I excuse Shae and set up the phones to forward to my cell, which is on silent. Easing myself on the couch, I place the phone on my chest and doze while she continues to work.

The phone buzzes about thirty minutes into her working. I pick it up.

“Runway offices, Miranda’s phone,” I say civilly. “Oh yeah, no problem. I’ll let Shae know to call you in the morning first thing. No problem. Thank you.” I hang up and message Shae, before rolling up to make a note to put on her desk.

“Anything important?” Miranda asks me when I return to the couch.

“Nothing you need to worry about until tomorrow,” I say with a smile. I wait to see if she will trust me with this information. Her mouth twitches and she returns to work. I pull the blanket off the back of the couch and curl up, feeling sleep threaten.

It feels like an instant later when the couch cushion sinks in and Miranda is there, stroking my cheek with her knuckles.

“Hello, my girl,” she murmurs, bending down to kiss my forehead, my cheek, and then my lips when I smile. “Thank you for being so patient.”

“Mmm…I just like basking in your presence,” I reply and wrap my arms around her neck, pulling her into a gentle, lazy kiss.

“Ready to go home, my dear?” she asks.

“With you? Always.”

***  
I meet Miranda in her room, dressed in a black tuxedo, and feeling pretty good about how I look. She’s sitting at her vanity, dressed in a gorgeous black number that grips her neck, leaving her shoulders bare and hugging her body in an almost obscene way that makes my core light up. Not to mention, it’s incredibly low in the back.

She looks at me through the mirror and smiles wickedly at my expression. It’s officially our third date. The second one I organized, a night cruise with a live band and cocktails. Lily and Gretch joined us for that one and it was really nice. We all danced, I put the few dance lessons Miranda had managed to squeeze in to to good use and Lily was duly impressed.

I notice something tucked into the mirror in Miranda’s vanity. There are pictures of the girls, of course, and me, but also I notice a clipping of a Reader’s Digest article on black cardstock. My heart flutters.

“You kept it,” I breathe and pick it up to look at it in disbelief. It’s my article on young girls living with Down Syndrome. I never mention Line directly, but I had interviewed a few other girls and helped connect Miranda to some girls Line’s age.

Miranda reaches up to grab it, looking at it fondly, and places it back down in her special spot.

“Of course, dear,” she says as if that’s the way it was always meant to be, before standing and kissing me. “It matters to me. I think that was the first time, I truly knew you weren’t just one of my assistants. That you were different.”

I squeeze her into a hug and she chuckles against me.

“Thank you for coming to one of my boring galas,” she murmurs. “I know they are not your favorite.”

“I like keeping you company. You never know who you’ll meet either. It’ll be fun. Thanks for inviting me…” 

She strokes my face.

“It will be nice having you with me,” she admits, eyes soft and unwavering. “I have missed you at Runway more than I can say. Having you present at the events is always helpful, even as my girlfriend.” My cheeks flush at that. I’m Miranda Priestly’s girlfriend. Holy fuck-a-mole. I won’t ever get tired of hearing those words from those beautiful, beautiful lips. “Do you like that?” I nod quickly and she nuzzles my nose. “You are so darling.”

“Say it again,” I murmur.

“My girlfriend?” she asks me, teasingly. I nod and she smiles indulgently. “An-dre-a Sachs, my girlfriend. You’ll hear that a lot tonight. That’s how I’ll be introducing you.”

“Really?” I ask, mouth suddenly dry. She looks me over trying to decide if that makes me nervous and unhappy or if I’m having an Andy freakout. She must decide I must be having a freakout, because she moves closer, hands on hips as she rocks me back and forth.

“Really,” she assures me with a warm smile that I echo as I throw my arms around her neck. She sighs against me. “Oh my girl.” I tremble at those words every time. 

Shortly afterwards, we have to leave or we’ll be late. Miranda still hates me to be late for anything and insists on arriving early for everything. The gala’s red carpet is intimidating, especially standing next to Miranda instead of behind her, but her arm tightens around me.

“Smile, dear,” she murmurs and when I look at her confident, proud look I can’t help but give her a dopey grin. Her smile grows as we walk toward the entrance and through the sea of photographers. Well, it’s official. We’re together in the eyes of New York society for better or for worse and Miranda couldn’t even give a damn.

She’s literally the best. Inside, her arm stays tight around mine as she passes me a champagne glass and she grabs her own. We start making the rounds and just like she promised she introduces me as her girlfriend.

Most people are polite. Some even have heard of me as a writer, while others recognize me for being Miranda’s former assistant. Those few get an icy glare from the Ice Queen herself as she is none to pleased to have my old job referenced after so long. She waxes on about my writing exploits and how proud she is of me. The whole time I struggle not to blush like an idiot.

About an hour in, she leaves me with Nigel, Emily, and Serena to continue socializing while we enjoy a nice chat with a friendly group of photographers. It’s nice to hang out with them again and they try to talk me into going to a bar with them later that week.

“Ah, those days of getting plastered are behind me,” I say, looking after Miranda like the goddess she is. Emily gags and Serena elbows her. “But if you want to grab lunch or dinner let me know. Miranda might join me.” They all look at each other.

“That’ll be great, Andy,” Nigel says and he sounds like he means it. “She’s not that bad, really, Serena. Emily, don’t even.” Emily rolls her eyes.

“It’s not every day I eat lunch with my boss, but sure,” she says. “Why not? If it means seeing you…”

“You know where to find me,” I tell her. 

“For how long? We heard about the sabbatical. What’s up?” Emily asks. She actually sounds mildly concerned, which must mean she’s worried I’m taking off for health reasons.

“Nothing,” I say with a shrug. “I have some books that I need to write. I’ll probably return to collaborating with Elias-Clark afterwards, but I have some projects that I haven’t been able to touch because of my job. They’re pretty big too.”

“That’s great, really,” Nigel says, excitedly. “You’re going to hit the big time. I can see it now.” I shrug again with a big grin.

“We’ll see,” I say with a shrug and Emily rolls her eyes again.

“You will,” she mutters. She’s not really upset that’s literally Emily for you. “You always get the gold, Andy.”

“So do you…I mean, seriously, you got another promotion,” I say. She smiles, looking damned pleased with herself.

“I know. Hard work pays off,” she says, taking another drink of champagne. “To hard work.” We all cheers to that.

Miranda finds me after an hour, sinking into the arm of the chair. I wrap my arm around her waist as she looks down at me. She gives me a warm smile.

“Taking care of my girl?” she asks her employees. My cheeks flush again. I don’t know how she does this to me.

“Of course, Miranda,” Nigel says, giving me a wink as Emily rolls her eyes for the umpteenth time this evening.

“Good,” Miranda says and bends down to give me a kiss. I accept it and feel my chest expand. I can’t believe she’s doing this.

That she is so chill with us out in public. She feels me trembling and her eyes search mine. She must sense my own trepidation with being so forward. It wasn’t so long ago that I kept this all fiercely under wraps, even from my best friend. Now, at least I know that nobody is going to beat the fuck out of me, but old anxieties die hard. She pats my hand on her hip understandingly and pulls away. I immediately miss her and lean against her. She’s the only thing keeping them at bay.

“You make quite the charming couple,” Nigel says, tipping his glass to us. “It’s about time I say.”

“Here here,” Serena replies and we toast to that too, because any reason to toast in our bunch is a reason to drink. Miranda shakes her head as if seeing right through us.

She sighs and I gently guide her next to me since there is room for us both in the oversized chair. She accepts the guidance and pulls me tight against her.

“Thank you,” she murmurs. “You are my strength.” I flush at her words again. She remains seated for all of fifteen minutes before she steals me away to finish with the party, saying goodbye to various key people.

The drive back is peaceful and quiet as we relax against each other. Miranda had insisted we leave a little early as galas were not her favorite events.

We arrive home and she leads me up to my bedroom, kissing me gently.

“I’m going to take a shower and I’d like to return,” she says. Her words are heavy with meaning. She lifts a questioning eyebrow and I feel my core tighten and heat up.

“Please do,” I murmur and lean into steal another heated kiss. She quickly pulls away smiling and patting my cheek.

“All in due time,” she replies, before slipping away. I prance into my room to take a quick shower, scrub off my make up, and frantically decide what I should put on for bed. Briefly, I fantasize about laying naked on it, but that’s a bit much even for me. 

So I throw on one of my favorite t-shirts, soft and perfectly fit and cotton shorts. I crawl in bed, turn off the lights except for the string lights in my bed and wait.

Miranda walks in. My jaw drops, because she is dressed in a nude colored chemise that ends mid thigh. She smiles at my reaction hungrily, approaching the bed like the lioness she is. Slowly, crawling over me, stealing a long passionate kiss.

“Are you ready, An-dre-a?” she asks me in a deep, warm sultry voice that shakes me to pieces.

“Uh-huh,” I reply. Her eyebrow arches and her smiles turns teasing. Lips drop to the shell of my ear.

“You do not sound certain.”

“Please, Miranda. I’ve never wanted anything more,” I whimper, pulling her down on top of me. The move surprises her and she moans feeling my body press hungrily against hers.

“And what do you want, my girl?”

“You, Miranda…. I want you and only you.” I swallow, feeling her underneath that thin gown. My hand slips up her thigh, warm and soft, nearly as silky as her gown, before reaching her hip—nothing stopping the movement of my hand from going north—to her flat stomach and I feel her shift. Worried eyes catching mine.

“Shall we turn the lights out?” she asks huskily, sounding unsure for the first time. I catch her lips in mine.

“You’re beautiful,” I whisper, slowly guiding her to the bed. “I want to see you.” My heart beats faster and faster as our tongues briefly touch and I twist gently against her soft flesh to chase the sweet taste of champagne and mint. 

My mind drifting to quote Gatsby, _… listening for a moment longer to the tuning fork that had been struck upon a star. Then, she kissed her. At her lips touch, she blossomed like a flower and the incarnation was complete._

And so was Miranda. All insecurities melting away by our languid, sultry touches. Easing off the chemise, I venerate and exalt at the shrine that is my goddess. Silky soft skin, both pale and majestic, and me lapping up her divinity at her most sacred shrines. 

Feeling her twist and writhe in pleasure, she lights me up like setting fire to oil. I’m no candle in the dark, but a bonfire. I let her dictate the pace, not minding going slow and maximizing her pleasure. When I reach the goal, my soft ministrations with the flat of my tongue reduce her to soft whimpers as her hips buck against me. 

Bringing Miranda to this joy and ultimate vulnerability is unlike like any experience I’ve had so far with man or woman. I’ve always enjoyed the giving and touch of bringing a woman to her knees, but Miranda is powerful, pure, and she has given me so much. I want this to be perfect, comfortable. I want her to feel my love, desire, and passion for her with every touch.

So, I’ve done my homework. Pulling away, I hear Miranda whine.

“Trust me,” I whisper softy into her ear, kissing her cheek as I reach into the top drawer of my nightstand and pull out some lube, specifically chosen with her in mind. “I’ll take care of you always, Miranda. Because I love you.” My lips find hers again, heated, slow, and passionate as I return to my venture and bring her to peak again and over the top.

“Oh, oh, my girl,” she moans.

The quiet Miranda, hands clutching my hair, riding the intense orgasm, wails before dropping back onto the bed. We both have tears in our eyes when I crawl back up to her. Her eyes are shut, tears rolling tracks down her pink cheeks.

I nuzzle her gently, holding her against me as she pants against my skin, hot breath beating against me. I can’t help but gently rock against her as she gathers herself.

“Oh, my sweet, sweet girl,” she whispers. “It’s been so long…” Her voice hitches and I kiss her softly, gently now.

“You won’t have to wait so long next time,” I assure her. “Promise.” She sucks in a breath through her nose, gathering herself as she opens those amazing cerulean eyes. Desire hot as she looks me over hungrily.

“You are wearing too many clothes,” she purrs and pulls at my shirt. I strip it off and her eyes devour. Flushing hot, I try to beat back the negative thoughts as her hand touches my cheek, lazily strolls down the side of my breast and side.

“Oh my girl. So beautiful, so perfect,” she says, eyes heavily lidded with want. “Come to me.” Rising, she meets me halfway and we begin to kiss again. Her teeth nibbling against me, hands rake down my back and any negative thoughts I might have are hunted down one by one and banished by the queen herself.

She nips at my neck, playfully, and I know she is going to be a little rougher with me. Which I don’t mind, at all…she is the Dragon Lady after all. She rolls me onto my back, knee between my thighs, eyes dilated and all I want is her. 

“An-dre-a…” she growls at me, having to hold my hands above my head. “Keep those there if you can’t keep them to yourself.”

Swallowing, I watch as she ravages and takes me for all I’m worth. She is Miranda Priestly after all. Both fierce and gentle. She stays with me, whispering soft encouragements to banish away any despondency about the imperfection of my own body while her hands do their magic.

I’ve never had a lover as experienced as her and she knows exactly what to do to light me up and it doesn’t take much, after worshiping her, to be honest.

She holds me afterwards and that’s better than anything. Her soft breaths, lulling me somewhere safe. Knowing that I’m loved for being me and not perfect, even if she says I am.

“Mine,” she whispers against my cheek. “My sweet Andrea. Such a good girl.” I squeeze my eyes shut and nuzzle deeper into her neck. “I adore you, my girl.”

“This is probably the—” I almost say sex, but what has just transpired between us was no where near fucking. No, for the first time in my life, I’ve experienced true lovemaking with an incredible woman, and now I’m crying again. “—lovemaking talking, but I really, really love you, Miranda.” I stroke her face. “Don’t hate me for saying it too early. Please…”

“Early, my dear?” she asks, amused with a deep ocean look in her eyes that I fall into. “I feel like our relationship is so much more than three dates. It’s years in the making and yes, I love you too. You’re my girl after all.” I make a soft pleating noise against her and she wraps her arms tighter around me. We slot perfectly together. “My darling, you mean the utter world to me.”


	19. The Wedding of the Season

“I’m half tempted to cover that ice sculpture with my jacket,” Gretch says, leaning over close to Lily, arm around her waist and eyes gleaming wickedly. “She looks cold.” Lily leans over and kisses her newly minted wife.

“If you do, I’m going to dance with Andy,” she says with a proud smile. I look over at Lily surprised. Miranda harrumphs playfully.

Gretch looks amazing in a long red jacket and black dress while Lily is in her typical pants suit and vest, all in white, because she’s traditional like Gretch isn’t. I grin at them, because they make an awesome power couple in this world.

“Oh honey bear, you should do that anyway,” Gretch says with a chuckle.

“Just don’t start singing _Take me or Leave me_ ,” Lily says. “You know I’ll sing the counterpart and everyone will think we’re getting a divorce.” Her eyebrows going up, eyes going soft. Gretch places her hands on either side of her face.

“Oh, if I did, it’d end a lot differently, honey. I’ll always take you, not matter what, my lovable droll geek,” Gretch whispers, kissing her softly and tenderly.

“And you’ll always be my impromptu baby,” Lily says and returns the kiss, before turning to me and offering her hand.

“Miranda, can I borrow your girl?” she asks. That surprises the hell out of me and I look to Miranda who is giving us a pleased, but amused look. Damn that woman, I don’t know how she does this to me. 

“Of course, dear. I am always willing to share my Andrea with her friends,” Miranda says in a low sultry voice as her hand glides over my shoulders possessively. “Have fun, dear.”

“I’ll bring her back in one piece,” Lily promises, pulling me up to the full dance floor. Even Doug flew in from France to be here. He waves and gives us a thumbs up. 

Lily twirls me around and brings me close as I laugh at her antics. It’s a semi-fast song and I’ve definitely been improving in the dancing arena thanks to Miranda.

“So what does it feel like to be a married woman?” I ask her. Her grin grows wider.

“I can’t believe it! I never thought I’d settle, you know? But I’ve never been happier with Gretch. I mean, who could know my favorite musical and my favorite song and we can joke about that at our wedding?” I shake my head, remembering how many times we sang along to the whole thing together. “Mom even came out. Can you believe it?”

“Your mom is a great a woman,” I say, feeling a pang of jealousy rouse in me, but the only thing that keeps it from overwhelming me is knowing that she is just as much my mom as Lily’s. Lily squeezes me in a quick hug.

“She’s your mom too, you know? She talked about it the whole time, during the planning. Meeting you and your woman. I swear, she was more excited about meeting Miranda than coming to my wedding,” Lily teases me, putting her forehead against mine. “Thanks for making this possible.”

“You know how much the girls helped,” I whisper. “And Miranda.” We had put long hours into making this perfect for Lily and Gretch. Line took the photos for today. Miranda and Cass helped Lily and Gretch with the design of the whole thing. I was the worker bee and made sure the invitations looked nice. It all came together.

The wedding itself had gone off without a hitch. Doug and I were apart of Lily’s wedding party. I was the maid of honor. Our tux vest are both red to match Gretch’s colors and the red rose in Lily’s vest. A woman minister had preformed the wedding vows and Lily’s mom led her down the aisle. Gretch had stood next to her sister who was her maid of honor and bestie since neither of her parents are living.

There was nothing like watching Lily walk down the aisle to a live string quartet to _Don’t Stop Believing_ I think we were all a little teary eyed by the time Lily’s mom handed her off to Gretch who bear-hugged Lily right back as they laughed and cried up the steps to the minister.

“Andy,” she admonishes me, bringing me back to the present. “They wouldn’t even be here if it weren’t for you.” I give a little shrug and she shakes her head. “Baby girl, when are you going to ask Miranda to marry you?” 

Holy shit! Where did that even come from? I look at her shocked.

“What’s the matter, Andy? You haven’t thought about it, have you? You know she’s the one, right? You’ve never been this happy before.”

“I don’t even know if she wants to get married again and the girls…they’re just about to go into college.”

“Not right this second, Andy,” Lily says with a laugh. “Reel it in, girl. Come back to me. What about you? Is it something you want?” I swallow. “You really haven’t thought about it at all, have you?”

I shook my head, blushing.

“I always thought…you know it wasn’t legal to be married with a woman when we were kids,” I say in a hoarse voice. “So I never planned it or thought I could have something like that.”

“Well there are benefits to marriage,” she says. “She won’t ever have to worry about visiting you in the hospital again or vice versa…you can share healthcare, taxes. And having a wife is a lot different than having a girlfriend…”

“Is it?” I ask, but I can hear it in the term itself and when I look toward Miranda and think wife, something twitches inside of me and a longing starts to blossom. I could really be her girl. I could be a Priestly. Lily guides my chin back and smiles gently.

“Yes, I believe so and I know you think so,” she says. “And there’s no guarantee it will always be legal forever, you know? Not with the powers that be.” I nod.

“But that’s not a reason to get married. I won’t get married out of fear it will be taken away,” I admit. “I want to get married for the right reasons.” She nods.

“I love the person you are becoming,” she replies and I blush. “You’re one of my favorite people.”

“You’re one of mine too,” I say. “God, who would have thought we’d end up here.” She smiles and when the song ends, she leads me back to Miranda. I kiss her on the cheek, but Lily’s mom has joined us and has been talking to Miranda privately.

“So, I’ve met Miss Goodwin, darling. She has been telling me all about your wild youth,” Miranda says wickedly. I gulp and Miss Goodwin laughs.

“She’s joking, Andy. Though I have told her most of your embarrassing stories. You know, to get them out of the way,” she says and I roll my eyes and scoot over to kiss her on the cheek too.

“This woman literally saved my life, Miranda,” I say with a smile. “So I guess, she’s allowed to tell whatever stories she wants. I mean, it’s not every day someone adopts a weird teenager.”

“It’s not everyday that parents let other parents do that,” Miss Goodwin gives Miranda a meaningful look and I get the feeling I know what they were talking about and the blush is real this time. 

“Do not fret, darling,” Miranda says gently. “Your secrets are always safe with me.” I nearly melt where I’m standing. 

“Miss Goodwin means the world to me,” I whisper.

“And I’m so very proud of you. Miranda says you already have a publisher and a network lined up for your recent project.” I nod.

“Oh yeah, Allie and Cate were such a big help with that. They are in the halfway home.”

“My darling helped get them off the streets. I was there when she went. It was quite daring after everything that had happened. She is a such a brave girl,” Miranda brags and I can’t make eye contact anymore as Miranda pats my hands.

“I’m so proud of you, Andy,” Miss Goodwin says, rising to her feet to take my face in her hands, before kissing my cheek. “In everything...Miranda is a bold choice, but I can see why you’ve chosen her.” 

“Thanks, Miss Goodwin,” I murmur. She pats my shoulder before going back to Lily and Gretch. I sink down ungracefully into my seat. Miranda tsks.

“Oh, I was hoping some young woman would ask me to dance, but I suppose I was mistaken.” I grin at her as she taps an elegant finger along her cheek and peers at me from the corner of her eye, lips pursed.

“Well, I suppose her mind was somewhere else with all this teasing,” I say and lean into to wrap a hug around her, but she pretends to be aloof, peering down at me with faux disapproval.

“Teasing? Darling, are you accusing me of something?”

“Wouldn’t dream of it. Would you like to dance? It is our song. Isn’t it?” I ask her as _Somewhere Over the Rainbow_ plays. She harrumphs softly.

“I like our version better, but it will do, I suppose,” she says loftily and slides her hand gracefully into mine. I lead her to the floor, but that’s the last bit of leading I do, before she takes over, humming in approval as I take to the steps. “You have gotten much better.”

“I’ve had a good teacher. Do you like Miss Goodwin?” I ask hopefully.

“I invited her over for dinner tonight. I hope you do not mind,” she says. “I want to know the woman that truly raised you.” I flush and she kisses my cheek. “And hear all those terrible stories.”

“Oh,” I say.

“Oh indeed,” she says, quite pleased with herself. I look up at her and tease the question in my mind, but I don’t have the courage to ask. “Darling? What is it?”

“Lily said something crazy to me,” I say and pull her to me, because I’m feeling anxious again. Her hands glide over my back.

“You never have to worry when I am around,” she murmurs softly in my ear. “It couldn’t be that bad either from Lily. Now, tell me, Andrea.”

“She asked me about marriage.”

“Oh,” she says thoughtfully. My heart flutters. “Have you thought about it?”

“Have you?” I ask her quickly, because I haven’t and that scares me. It sounds like a big commitment, but aren’t I already committed to this woman?

“To be honest…I hadn’t thought about it. My first two attempts at it weren’t the best. The only thing I got out of it were the girls and they are the best thing in my life besides you,” she says in a quiet, vulnerable voice. “Most of my life, marriage hasn’t been an option among same-sex partners.”

“It’s new for me too,” I admit. “I hadn’t thought of it at all until Lily asked me. If you wanted too…”

“No, not like this,” Miranda chides, stroking my face. “If we do get married I want it to be for the right reasons.”

“And those are?”

“Because we truly want it. I will not lie…I would not mind making you a Priestly now that I think of it. It would be quite sexy to call you my wife.” Her eyebrow arches and something burns hot in my core.

“I’d really be your girl,” I whisper. 

“Oh my dear, you _already_ are my girl. There’s no getting out of that one,” she promises me with a tiny wicked smile. I hum pleased against her. “I suppose, I wouldn’t ever have a problem seeing you in a hospital again.”

“Or you,” I murmur. She snorts.

“You’ve been to the hospital more than I,” she says with a soft smile. “I am as healthy as a horse.”

“Minus all that red meat,” I tease her. She scoffs at me.

“A woman must live a little,” she says. “I have cut back a bit for you and the girls. Oh the girls, that’s the snag, isn’t it?” I agree. “If we were to be serious about this, I’d like to wait until they are all settled, especially Line.”

“Absolutely,” I say. “She’s decided on Parson’s…for the photography program?”

“Yes, I believe so. I’ve tried to be so patient and not offer her the internship at Runway until she’s decided to stay in New York, should she decide to go elsewhere with Cassidy.”

“I think it will be good for them to be apart for a time,” I say. “Not that Line is bad for Cassidy, or vice versa, but they’ve spent their whole lives together.”

“I wouldn’t mind keeping Line close. I do so worry about her,” Miranda admits. “Perhaps we can get her a little apartment with one of her friends in a year? Perhaps I could bear that if you could talk me down when I go into one my anxious spells.”

“Yeah, I think that would be a good test to see how she’ll manage and you too,” I say wryly. “I can visit her too. If she decides to stay local or not. I have the flexibility if I keep writing books.”

“Yes, I like that idea,” Miranda admits. “Darling, what would I do without you to talk some sense into me when it comes to our girls? I doubt I would have ever let Line out of my clutches if it weren’t for you and now, she’s blossomed into this wonderful, independent young woman.”

“She would have found her own way. I’m sure of it,” I say, even though I’m not so sure. Line would do anything to please Miranda and Cassidy. I’m glad I met Line. “Line is one of my best friends.” Miranda smiles softly.

“I know, my darling,” she whispers. “It is so sweet to watch you. I never thought…she was not even that close to Stephen, but with you…it’s utterly marvelous to see your friendship, your love for one another.”

“I do love the girls.”

“Our girls,” Miranda corrects, and she kisses my forehead. “If marriage will convince you of that then perhaps when everything is settled—”

“For the right reasons, Miranda,” I say firmly. “Not for my insecurities, never for that. I love you and I trust you.” She smiles softly again, eyes watery.

“Oh my dear,” she whispers, moved beyond words. “I do love you. I love you so much.” Her arms tighten around me. The song ends and we walk off the floor. With more questions then answers, but there’s a sort of excitement in that.

***  
Miss Goodwin laughs at something Miranda has said. I look between them amused, but happy these two women are in my life and that they are together at last to meet.

“I did meet Andy’s mother on several occasions. The father less so. I took Andy, because I never wanted her hurt again, not like that night. When I knew he was capable of that…I thought to myself I’d take her out of the state if I needed to,” Miss Goodwin says after the second cup of wine that night. We’ve retired to the study.

“You knew then?”

“I always knew he was hurting you. That’s why I let you stay over so much. That and Lily adored you,” Miss Goodwin says with a sharp nod.

“And did you call child services?” Miranda asked and Miss Goodwin purses her lips not happy with the question.

“Many times,” she says unhappily. “But nothing came of it. He was a wealthy lawyer. I felt like I was the only one who saw how much Andy was hurting and she’s never even come out and admit it. She always protected them.”

“Sorry,” I say and she shakes her head.

“Don’t ever apologize. You were just a kid,” she says softly. “He intimidated and hurt you and your mother. How could you stand up to that?”

“I’m glad she had you,” Miranda murmurs. “I’m glad you had Lily.” There are tears rolling down Miranda’s cheeks and I get up to sit down between her and Miss Goodwin. Squeezing her gently, I wipe the tears away.

“I did. I wasn’t alone,” I reply steadily. She nods and buries her head into my neck.

“I can’t help but feel knowing that you were hurt by your own parents in such a way,” Miranda says. “It isn’t right. And you dear are such a sweet, sweet person.”

“I always knew you were special, Andy,” Miss Goodwin says. “That you were going to do something special and now look at you. Writing articles in magazines, going on tv, and soon, putting out your own book. I couldn’t be more proud of you.” She rises to her feet, wanders the wall with the books, looking as if she is reading the titles, but I can tell her thoughts are in the past.

Miranda settles with me in her arms. She kisses my cheek.

“I’ll let you two ladies have some alone time. I’ll be back in a bit,” she says and rises to her feet. Leaving the room to gather herself. I look at Miss Goodwin and she looks back at me thoughtfully.

“I think…if I hadn’t talked to Lily so much about Miranda I would have disapproved,” Miss Goodwin admits. “But she’s told me so much of your journey together.” She shakes her head. “I can’t believe I’m saying this, but you’re really lucky, Andy.”

“I know,” I murmur. “Why would you disapprove?”

“The age difference for one, but if I didn’t know any better I’d just say you were taking advantage of the situation. That you let city life get the better of you and turned to your parents’ ways.”

“Like Mom with Dad?” I ask, because I know there has to be at least a twenty year gap between them. Mom was his trophy wife and Dad was her sugar daddy. She nods. “I wouldn’t do that.”

“I know, Lily told me and I can see it with my own two eyes,” she says. “I might have been blinded by my prejudices if not for the facts.”

“But with the facts?”

“She’s so kind with you. And she knows about everything?”

“Yeah, about my parents, Nate, everything.”

“Does she ever hurt you?”

I shake my head fiercely.

“No, never. She’d never do that and she helped me…she helped me see how wrong that is and made me feel safe enough to talk about it. She’s really changed me for the better.”

“I can see that,” Miss Goodwin says, settling down next to me. “I can’t help but worry about you most, Andy. I want what’s best for you. Is she really it?”

“I think so. You and Lily were the closest thing to a family I ever had, but Miranda and the girls, our girls…I love them so much. I take care of them and they take care of me. We love each other. We’d do anything for each other and this isn’t a passing thing. I’ve loved Miranda for years and I can say the same thing for her.”

“It’s sweet really. When you think about it. There aren’t a lot of romances like yours.” I shake my head.

“No, that’s what makes it special though, right?” I whisper and she nods, patting my hand.

“You really have changed. You’re not going a mile a minute anymore and though I can still see you overthinking things you don’t let them eat you up.”

“Miranda is better than most of my anti-anxiety meds,” I tease with a smile. “Just being around her settles something inside of me. I can’t describe it.”

“She’s matured you,” Miss Goodwin says. “And that is something.”

There are a thousand words for Miranda, but none of them seem adequate to share with Miss Goodwin, so I shrug. 

“Tell me about what’s going on with you,” I say with a smile. “When are you moving to New York?”

“Oh Andy,” she says and hits my shoulder playfully, because despite how many times Lily and I beg her to come, she swears up and down that she’ll never move out of Ohio. “Nothing much really just work.”

“You should really come up here and let us take care of you,” I say. “You deserve it after everything you’ve done for us.”

“You wouldn’t want me in your hair and I’m not going into one of those homes if I have to. Herb is at home too in his own way. I don’t think I could leave that house, honey.”

“Okay,” I say, knowing that was when to stop pestering her about it. Herb was her late husband. He had died shortly after Lily was born, so neither of us had known him, but Miss Goodwin had loved him to pieces and bragged on him every chance she got.

We continued to talk until Miranda came back. Shortly after Miss Goodwin allowed Roy to take her to the hotel she was staying at, even though Miranda tried to get her to stay the night.

In the den, the girls sit watching a movie together. Line is curled up next to Cassidy and they wave us over, but when I look to Miranda I see she’s tired.

“Next time,” I say. “We’re a bit wore out.”

“Old ladies,” Cassidy calls after us.

“I’m going to have to make her pay for that,” Miranda says stiffly. “I am not old.”

“Of course not,” I say. “We’ll throttle them at Pictionary or something on game night.” She snorts.

“That we will,” she says. “You really do not think I am old.”

“Older than me, but not old,” I tell her and squeeze her. “You’re beautiful.”

“One day I may not be.”

“I may not either,” I say quietly. She smiles softly.

“Then, we shall grow old and ugly together, I suppose and still love the other,” she hums. “It must not be all about our looks then.”

“I think, you’re letting the patriarchy smear their lies. Fashion isn’t always about the prettiest girls.”

“You lose so much in the camera and on the walkway. What is true beauty when it’s superficial?” Miranda murmurs.

“Uh-oh, she’s going philosophical. Why don’t you get ready for bed and we can talk about it there,” I say, dropping her off at the doorway of her room. She smacks my shoulder softly before stealing a kiss.

“You are lucky I adore you,” she replies with a sniff. “How else would I put up with your silly moods.”

“You mean you don’t find them entertaining?” I ask with faux hurt and she rolls her eyes.

“There you go again,” she says and her lips twitch, giving her away. She moves away from me, but I catch her and pull her back.

“God, you’re so sexy in that. Sure you don’t want me to take it right off?” I murmur against her skin, pressing her against the doorjamb. Now a warm chuckle escapes her.

“Go get ready for bed, my girl,” she says sternly, but definitely pleased. I continue to kiss up her neck until she finally pushes me away. “Patience.”

“As you wish,” I reply and let her slip from my fingers. Like every night, I can’t wait to cuddle up with my Miranda, so I dart to my room grinning from ear to ear.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Looks like you guys get three more chapters, including this one. I've had a blast writing this story and hearing from you. I had a lot of fun writing this wedding chapter. I'm glad someone encouraged me to write it. Let me know what you think!


	20. A Funny Story That

It’s the night after Paris week. I’ve been trying to wait most of the night for Miranda, but she’s expectedly late from an afterparty with her magazine crew. I had hung out for a bit, but I couldn’t keep up with their well after-midnight go-out-with-a-bang- party. 

Emily and Lily both moaned and bitched about me leaving before Miranda, but they hadn’t been up after midnight and before the crack of dawn every single day with her, helping settle the nerves of my Dragon Lady during the biggest week of her year.

I hear the door to our luxurious suite open and close quietly and I shift in the large amazingly comfortable bed, reticent to move now that I’ve had—I look at the clock—two hours of sleep.

Miranda’s stockinged feet pad through the hardwood floors and she collapses on the couch in our room with a surprising gracelessness. She must be really tired. I don’t open my eyes yet, but when I do she is lit by a small lamp, staring at me with red-rimmed, yet beautiful eyes. As usual they are soft and full of a love I recognize.

“Did I wake you?” she murmurs. I nod with a smile. “That was not my intention. I apologize, darling.” I start to get up. “You don’t have to…I’ll be along in a moment.” But I don’t listen as I slide out of bed and stand in front of her, dressed only in a cami and boy shorts.

She looks at me appreciatively, from my face down my body to my toes which I wiggle for her. That brings a tiny amused smile to her lips. Obviously, she still likes what she sees after our year together. Head on her knuckles on the arm of the couch, her eyes flick up to mine.

She’s barely changed herself, the goddess. Her salt and pepper hair a little shorter, but her classic curl still present over her forehead. Tonight, she’s in grey slacks and a purple blouse.

Her arms open and I slide into them, onto her lap. My back against the armrest, my arms around her, and my head tucked under her chin. She smells of Miranda, overpowering and delicious as I slip in tiny kisses along her neck and jawline and she hums in sleepy contentment.

“My sweet, sweet girl,” she murmurs. “You absolutely delight me.” I close my eyes and we rest like that, perfectly fitting together. “Thank you for putting up with me these last weeks. I know it mustn’t have been easy.”

“Not easy, but worth it. You work too hard.”

“At least we have this week together,” she says. “A vacation. We haven’t had one of those yet.”

One week in Paris, per Miranda’s request. She had said she didn’t want to share me with my work for a moment longer. Another book at the publisher, this one on my own journey of living in the closet and my anorexia. Afterwards, I’ll be busy with a book tour, signings, and the whole thing.

With the girls in college officially and both of us busy with work, it made sense though and I’m glad she asked for it. It’s going to be hectic after this. Our lives are always hectic and we both love it, but it leaves mornings, evenings, and a thousands of stolen moments during the days.

Cassidy is off to John Hopkins in Baltimore in one of the best programs to be a doctor. She wants to be a surgeon, and if anyone can do it. It’s her. Caroline got into that program at Parsons in New York that she is having a blast with and spent the week in Paris interning with her mom.

She’s rooming and returning to New York, tomorrow with the photoshoot crew under Emily’s steadfast eye. She’s also officially moved in with a college roommate for the last two months and has done well on her own. She visits frequently, of course.

Miranda shifts under me. Her lips find mine, burning as they kiss me languidly. Stealing my thoughts back to her and the present as she is so good at doing.

“I’ve missed you after you left,” she purrs, stroking my hair from my eyes. My lips quirk up at that.

“I’m here now,” I reply. Her hands slip to my abdomen and back underneath my cami, nails raking softly over flesh.

“Did you eat dinner?” she checks.

“I did,” I promise and it’s true. It was delicious. “Salade niçoise with a Sauvignon Blanc.”

“Mmm, sounds delightful. I am jealous. What I wouldn’t have given to have spent the evening with you and just you,” she says, kissing me in-between each word at the end. I chuckle. Miranda is incredibly dorky when she’s playful.

“You’ll have me to yourself this whole week. Promise.”

“I can’t wait. But I don’t think it will be enough to sate my appetite anymore,” she says with a shake of her head and a playful gleam in her eyes. I lift an eyebrow.

“What do you mean? You’ll have me for a whole week, 24 hours a day. You’ll be sick of me by the end of it,” I tease her, but she shakes her head.

“Not enough, dear. I never grow tired of you,” she says, nuzzling my cheek. I feel a blush creeping to my face.

“What are you saying then?”

“This will be my last official Paris week as editor-in-chief of Runway,” she says thoughtfully. “I haven’t shared with the staff yet, but I’ve decided I am retiring.”

“What the hell, Miranda? You can’t retire!”

“I can’t?” She says with a smile. “And why not, Andrea?”

“Um…because…it won’t be the same….Nigel? And you—what are you going to do with your day? You’re not exactly the sit at home type.” She sighs still looking damned pleased with herself, which leaves me even more perplexed by her attitude.

“Nigel has grown a lot. He will make a fine editor-in-chief for Runway. He deserves this, Andrea. More than you know,” she says softly. “I’ll continue to collaborate with the magazine and Elias-Clark as they begin new ventures and in the fashion industry. So I can stay as busy or as not busy as I would like. Are you truly displeased by this? Or is it the fact that it is change? You do so struggle with abrupt changes.” She strokes my hair from my eyes.

“Oh…well, I suppose you’ve thought about this then…a lot,” I murmur. “I guess, I wished you’d talked to me about it.”

“I wanted it to be a pleasant surprise, but next time I will discuss something of this magnitude with you. I wasn’t going to always be the editor-in-chief of Runway. Times are changing with the internet and I’d rather get out on top and let the younger protégées manage Runway through this transition to apps and reality television. I’m no Tyra Banks.” I snort.

“I’m glad you’re not,” I say and hug her closely. “I fell in love with Miranda Priestly, not her.” She hums pleased by my words.

“Shall we sleep in tomorrow?” She changes the topic seamlessly.

“You sleep in? I don’t believe it,” I scoff. Miranda has no ability to stop which is why I can’t believe she’s going to retire. I’m sure it won’t be immediately. There will be a transition period, but hell…Miranda’s leaving Runway and it sounded like she’s doing it for me, to spend more time with me.

“Perhaps, some beautiful, young woman can entice me to stay in bed a bit longer,” she says, stroking my nose and nipping at my earlobe. A fire begins to bloom within me and we quickly take the tumble to bed.

***  
Two days later, we’re sitting in Restaurant Pur’- Jean-François Rouquette. Miranda sits in a private corner of the circular seating and I’m next to her as we marvel over the exquisite flavors of blue lobster tail. Her hand never far from the small of my back as she continues her quest to spoil me in life, though at this point I’m rather spoiled rotten.

Over dessert, she looks quite pleased with herself with that hooded look of a lioness who is on the hunt and is going to catch her prey, rather the sated beast she normally looks like after an excellent meal and date. Lifting an eyebrow, I challenge her softly with a nudge with my shoulder, and she chuckles.

“You know me so well now, dear…I guess, it is time,” she says with a soft sigh. She has a content smile. “There are no words to express how my life has changed by your appearance. You just fell into my lap one day. I…I have never opened myself up to another human being as I have with you, darling, nor loved them as I have you. Thank you for the most amazing years of life and may we have many more together if you allow it.” 

Did I forget it was our anniversary or something? What’s bringing this on? Something shifts like the anxiety inside of me and I look up to her for comfort, but her blue eyes are distracted. She’s shuffling in her purse, next to her. She pulls out something and places it on the table with a decided plop. It’s a tiny velvet box.

Looking up, her blue eyes meet mine, and I feel the crest of tears and a unruly laughter threaten to burst from me.

“Will you be my girl forever?” she asks in a soft, vulnerable voice. A smile tugs at the corner of my lips as I wrap my arms around her.

“Of course,” I say, kissing her fiercely and holding her face. Her shoulders instantly relax. “You didn’t think I’d say no, did you? Come on, Miranda…” She shrugs, smiling at her own foolishness and looks up toward the ceiling.

“What can I say, dear? I am far from perfect. Part of me thought, surely, a young girl like yourself wouldn’t want to get hitched to an old bag like me,” she says rather sassily and I grunt in dissatisfaction.

“How many times do I have to say to you that you’re gorgeous or how many orgasms do I need to give you, I guess I should be asking,” I tease her. She slaps my shoulder.

“An-dre-a,” she gets on to me. “You’re being bad.” She’s clearly pleased, because I’ve been extra good on our Paris trip for her.

“No, no…I know what will make you realize I want to get ‘hitched’ with you. You won’t believe this.” I shuffle into my pants and pull out a matching box and place it next to hers. Funnily enough, it’s in a white velvet box. “I was going to ask you tonight on the way back to the hotel by the Seine.” Her full laughter bursts from her, head thrown back, and the joy flows from her. “Will you marry me, Miranda?”

Her eyes seem to dance when they meet mine. She kisses me fiercely.

“Yes, darling,” she says, pulling away just enough that I can feel her warm breath on my skin. She grabs the black box and opens it, pulling out the ring, a band encrusted with a diagonal strip of tiny diamonds. Grabbing my hand, she slides it onto my finger.

“It’s beautiful,” I whisper, blinking tears down my cheeks. I pick up her box and open it. Showing her the custom vintage halo rounded diamond I picked out for her. It’s surrounded by tiny blue sapphires that chase smaller diamonds down the band. She gasps.

“Oh, my sweet, sweet girl,” she gasps. Her hand grabs my arm and the other goes to her chest. I smile, because she’s definitely impressed by it and there’s not much that can impress Miranda. “It’s absolutely perfect.”

She allows me to slide it on her hand. Grabbing my face, she kisses me passionately again.

“Let’s go for that walk…” She kisses me once more before paying the bill, grabbing my hand, and we head to pick up our coats.

The night is perfect.The Eiffel Tower lit in golden lights and the river dark with mystery. We’re arm in arm when we pause at the bridge that will take us back to our hotel.

Miranda sighs again and I look up and there are tears rolling down her cheeks.

“We’ve come a long way, my love. Haven’t we?” she asks me, patting my hand. I can’t stop staring at her. She’s lit by a street lamp as she strokes my cheek. 

“We’ve got a ways yet to go,” I whisper, eyes dropping to her hand, the one with the ring. “It’s silly, but I’ve always had this bucket list for my life. Things I want to accomplish.”

“That doesn’t sound silly to me at all,” she says amused. “Tell me about it.”

“Well, I changed it recently,” I admit. “Here goes:

My Bucket List of Life

1\. Make Miranda Priestly laugh as much as possible, because she deserves it and because she doesn’t do it near enough. Find every possible way to make her feel loved and desired, because she deserves it.

2\. Continue to learn to love myself like Miranda loves me, so I can take care of myself to be the best person I can be for her and our girls.

3\. Write everything, but especially for those who can’t or are unable to share their own stories, because I’ve been there and it sucks.

“That’s beautiful, my darling,” she says, looking at me with entirely too much fondness than I deserve. “Sounds like you’ve already accomplished all of those things.”

“Are you happy?” I whisper. “With me?”

“More happy than I ever could have imagined,” she replies and bends down to kiss me. “I want to be your wife as soon as possible.”

“I’m sure I can twist Lily and Gretch’s arm to help with it since we helped with theirs,” I say with a smile. “I don’t know how I got so lucky. That I’m yours.”

“You walked into my office, Andrea. Simply flung out of space,” she says with a wicked smile, hands on my hips. “If I recall correctly, you were the one who turned my entire life upside down. I have never desired someone as I have you. Loved anyone as I have you.” She keeps stealing little kisses that are heating up my core again. I’ll never tire of Miranda’s love.

“I love you,” I whisper against her soft skin. I’ve already said it a million times, yet the meaning behind the words haven’t lost their significance. In fact tonight, it only seems to get stronger and more overwhelming, threatening to rock and tear me apart. I can’t imagine my life without this amazing woman. 

I tuck my head against her shoulder as we fit together so perfectly. Her hand threading through my hair, as she hums delighted at our closeness. We’ve always revelled in it. Every second is precious with her.

“Oh, An-dre-a, how I love my girl to pieces.”

We stay there for an infinite amount of time before she pulls me away back to the hotel. Tonight, I steal heated kisses in the elevator, drawing moans from her like stroking music from a cello. My hands stealing touches as she tries to unlock the door.

The door closes and she flips me around roughly, grabbing my arms and holding them over my head. With a growl, she quickly turns the tables, devouring me with kisses and licks.

“Off,” she commands hoarsely as she struggles with the buttons of my tux. I whimper, trying to unbutton them as fast as I can. We both rip off my jacket and shirt, followed by the cami under that and she continues her fierce ministrations.

Holy shit, I think as she unbuckles and unbuttons my pants. Is she going to—? My knees almost give out as I grab her shoulder before she drops to her knee.

“I’m going to fall,” I say. She gives me a look from the floor, sultry and damn hot.

“I’ve got you,” she promises, pulling down my boyshorts and starts working.

“Ah, ah…” I moan. I don’t fall, well I do at the very end on the cusp of my orgasm and Miranda catches me in her arms, holding me fiercely and tightly, before taking me to bed and fetching some more wine for us.

After, I’ve recovered a bit I return the favor, because she deserves a thousand orgasms. I give her as many she wants and by the end of the evening, she’s looking like the sated lioness she is. She has me tucked into her arms, my head resting on her shoulder. I can’t think of a place I’d rather be then in the arms of my goddess, nuzzling her skin and smelling the faint dark oriental tone of her perfume.

“Can I take your name? When we get married?” I ask her quietly, stroking her skin. Ever since Lily mentioned us getting married, that’s the only thing I’ve wanted. I’ve wanted to be a Priestly, taking her name, and truly being her girl. I want to be apart of their family. She makes a pleased noise, stroking my back, seeking out my lower back and gently scratching it.

“Yes, darling. You are my girl after all,” she says. “An-dre-a Priestly does have a nice ring to it, does it not?”

“Mmm, perfect,” I whisper, tears in my eyes.

“What is it, my darling?” She sees the tears and wipes the one that gets away on my cheek.

“It’s nothing…I mean, the Goodwins have been my surrogate family, but it isn’t the same you know. Even if I wasn’t truly an orphan…not having any contact with my family…it’s just been…I’m so glad you’re here, in my life. That I can have a family again.” Her arms tighten and she kisses me several times on my cheek hard.

“Yes, my girl. You’re apart of my family. Do you understand me? You’ll be my wife, right now you are my fiancé, but soon you’ll be my wife and you’ve been a mother to the girls.” I gasp at those words. Words, I never imagined hearing and she strokes my cheek. “Oh darling…” She kisses me fiercely.

A mother. A wife. Words I never dreamed of hearing. The lies of my old life ring against me, but the truth of the new one is lying in my arms. Miranda, my everything.


	21. Epilogue

My hands run over the watermelon of my belly as the girls decorate the tree in the den. I guess, I never knew what fat was before I had a eight and half month old kid in my stomach. It’s hard to breath, sleep, and walk. I’m nothing but tired all the time and Miranda has somehow survived my hormonal tantrums. Cassidy just laughs at me and Line looks over at me and crawls across the couch for some cuddles.

“Hey, I’m not done with you!” Cassidy says, turning around to see us on the couch. “Traitor.” 

“Momma Andy needs me,” Line says. Now a photographer at Runway part-time and the rest, working on her own projects as she sees fit. She’s temporarily back in with us, to help when the baby comes. She insists. Cassidy smiles at us, before faking a glare at Line. 

Cass is still in school and starting her own internship soon. She’s done nothing but impress us and her teachers. The girl was always smart, but watching her become a woman right along with her sister is incredible. She’s tall and beautiful like her mother, with short hair, black slacks and a white underground band t-shirt. 

She’s brought her girlfriend of a year home. A short raven-haired gal who is also in the program, but in pediatrics, and into rock climbing. She’s in a black maxi dress with a red belt to be festive. I like her, Nora, is the opposite of Cassidy’s fiery headstrong temperament. She’s a fun little ball of energy that’s as a gentle as a kitten. She has this way of softening the edges of Cassidy like Line does.

Miranda walks in with a tray of hot chocolate and treats and places it on the ottoman. She peers over her glasses at me with a warm smile.

“How are you doing?” she says. I roll my eyes, stroking my belly.

“Miserable, same as before,” I tease and she leans over to kiss the top of my head. “I don’t know how you did two.”

“Oh, it was challenging,” she admits, gathering a hot chocolate mug and handing it to Line, who hands it to me. I place it on the arm of the chair as Line grabs her own.

“I love Mom’s hot chocolate. She always makes the best,” Line says to me. I nod. “I can never make it just right. She won’t tell me the secret ingredient.”

“Love,” Miranda teases, bringing two cups to Cassidy and Nora. “It looks brilliant, bobbsey.”

“Thanks, Mom. Line and Nora helped and Andy did too from the couch.”

“I offered critical feedback,” I reply and Miranda arches an eyebrow in my direction as Nora giggles. She stifles it when Miranda turns her full force on the girl. Miranda isn’t afraid to try to intimidate the girl, but Cassidy slips an arm around her.

“Mom,” Cassidy chastises gently. “Go easy on her, please.” Miranda softens and wraps her arm around Cassidy.

“I’ll try, dear. Nora, my apologies. I’m a bit of a mother bear when it comes to my girls. No matter how old they are.”

“A bit?” I ask with a chuckle and she releases Cassidy, snaps at Line. She slides away obediently and Miranda sits next to me. I look up at her as innocently as I can as she rains down the full wrath of Miranda upon me. She actually breaks first, which I totally blame on the baby. She bends down, pulls up my sweater and kisses my belly.

“Did you hear that, Carson?” she says. “Your Momma thinks I’m a mother bear.”

“Don’t listen, Carson. She is one!” I say as as her long elegant fingers begin their tirade of tickling me. I’m laughing and squirming when suddenly, we both freeze as he kicks.

“Oh!” Miranda beams and kisses me. “Our little boy must agree with you, my darling.” I chuckle and take her hand, feeling her wedding band.

***  
A Thousand Years plays from a piano and cellist. Miranda had insisted I walk down the aisle, because to hell with the fact that I’m the one wearing the tuxedo, she wants me to experience this, because she’s already experienced it and wants me to as well.

Our closest friends and family have gathered in white chairs in our backyard. Decorated prestigiously by our girls, Miranda, and a team of her best designers. She had literally turned back into the Dragon Lady on some days, which was a hoot to see. Reminding me of the woman I had fallen in love with. There really is no separating the two for me. I’m in loved with my cuddle bug and the Ice Queen.

If stress led her to direct said wraith on friends or family members. That’s usually the time they called me in to defrost our fair lady, who in a desire to make our wedding perfect let her meticulousness get in the way of the joy of the occasion. A well meaning wish for me to have the best since it was my first wedding.

Line squeezes my arm, walking me down the aisle decked in rose pedals, grinning from ear to ear.

Blue eyes steady my nerves from afar, never letting me go. My heart pumps harder the closer I get to her. The words of the song hitting me so hard in the gut, as if Miranda herself is singing the chorus directly to me, because she picked this song for me.

_Heart beats fast_  
Colors and promises  
How to be brave  
How can I love when I’m afraid to fall  
But watching you stand alone  
All my doubt, suddenly goes away somehow

_One step closer_

_I have died everyday, waiting for you_  
Darling, don’t be afraid,  
I have loved you for thousand years.  
I’ll love you for a thousand more. 

_Time stands still_  
Beauty in all she is  
I will be brave  
I will not let anything, take away  
What’s standing in front of me  
Every breath, every hour has come to this. 

_One step closer_

_I have died everyday, waiting for you_  
Darling, don’t be afraid,  
I have loved you a thousand years.  
I’ll love you a thousand more. 

_And all along I believed, I would find you._  
Time has brought your heart to me,  
I have loved you for a thousand years.  
I’ll love you for a thousand more. 

Then, Line kisses my cheek and passes me to Miranda. She steps next to Lily sandwiched between her and Emily. Miranda has Nigel, Cassidy, and an old friend that came out of the woodwork for this event, who lives in California, but apparently they modeled together before Miranda took over Runway.

Then, Miranda squeezes my arm, bringing back to this moment with her. Knowing that when I get excited my brain literally goes haywire. The crowd chuckles and suddenly my eyes are latched onto hers and my mouth is dry.

It’s like suddenly we are looking at the rest of our lives together and it’s terrifying. Like what if I somehow screw this up? What if my third book on fashion and Miranda, an autobiography of the most incredible goddess on the face of this planet and how both of them changed my life for the better somehow flops and I embarrass her on live television or I screw something up so bad that she’ll hate my guts.

Miranda, for some reason ignores my racing thoughts, looks down at me like I’m the best thing in the world as tears run down my cheeks. She strokes them away.

“Are you ready, my darling?” She asks gently and so full of love it literally hurts my chest. “I know, it’s scary and that’s okay.” She draws me into a hug despite the fact we didn’t rehearse that and I feel the beating of my heart slow down.

“I’m ready,” I whisper against her. “I’m ready to be yours.” Her arms tighten as she kisses my cheek hard.

“You will always be my girl,” she says in an emotion-filled voice. “Always.” She slowly releases me, keeping her hand at my lower back under my jacket and we face the Justice of the Peace, a woman who was available to come out today to the ceremony and was downright excited about it, being a fashion enthusiast.

The words _I do_ slip from my mouth and Miranda return them like a gift of a dozen roses. I can’t help but grin at her as she blinks tears away. We both have matching wedding bands this time.

“I now pronounce you Mrs. and Mrs. Priestly,” the woman says, clapping her hands. Everyone starts clapping and cheering as our rendition of _Somewhere Over the Rainbow_ starts to play.

***  
“Well, Mrs. An-dre-a Priestly,” she whispers against me. “Are you happy?” The girls are now curled up by the fire watching a holiday movie, I’ve barely been able to keep track of it. My belly full of hot chocolate, apple slices, and some cheese. 

“Mmm,” I say, practically on top of her as she strokes my stomach. “Carson definitely is.”

“I am not asking about, Carson, my darling,” she says and I feel her smile against my neck. I stretch a little, so more of me is touching her. She’s so warm and it makes my lower back feel better.

“I know and yes. I am so happy,” I reply and grab her hand, kissing the top of it. “This is everything.”

“My girl,” she says. 

“Oh!” I groan. “I think I have to—” Pressure catches my breath. I struggle to sit up. “I think—”

“What is it, darling?” She asks concerned. I grip my belly. “Is something wrong?” Then pain laces through me as I grip my sides. 

“Holy shit!” I say as I manage to grab Miranda’s hand. 

“Just breathe, darling. Cassidy, get our bags. As soon as the contraction is finished, we will head down to the car.”

“I’ll drive,” Nora says. Line pounces up and follows Cassidy. 

“Darling, hold on to me and breathe,” she says. I can barely hear her voice over the pain running through me.

“Is it supposed to hurt this much?” I gasp. “Isn’t it supposed to start lighter?”

“Everyone is different,” she soothes. 

“Oh god, it’s not stopping.”

“You did say your mother had a fast delivery, right?” Miranda says as if to remind me, but fuck it all, my brain doesn’t want to even think. “Let’s get you moving.” She helps me stand up and we struggle down the stairs.

“What do you mean?” I gasp.

“She had you quickly. It might be genetic. The doctor told us it would be a possibility,” she says, bracing me carefully. I must have been distracted when he was talking, great.

The girls follow after us and Nora is leading the way, holding the door. Hopefully, I won’t shoot the baby right out in the car before we even arrive at the hospital.

Coats are acquired quickly and they manage to shuffle me into the car between Line and Miranda. Miranda breathes with me patiently, holding my hands.

We thankfully aren’t too far from the hospital and the rest is a whirlwind of activity. I’m in a chair and Miranda is having difficulty keeping up.

“Miranda! Miranda! She’s my wife,” I cry. Her hand catches mine as the nurse slows.

“I am not leaving you, darling. Not for one moment.”

They manage to get me into a bed and on a epidural, but it’s happening so fast that I can barely catch my breath through contractions.

It doesn’t even feel like an hour later when Carson screams out of me. Miranda is crying as she holds him. I feel sort of funny.

“What’s going on?” Miranda asks the doctor. A tiredness sweeps over me.

“Miranda?” I ask her and try to reach out for her and Carson.

“Get them out of the room,” the doctor says suddenly.

“No, I am not leaving her! Andrea!” Miranda raises her voice as the nurses rush them out.

“—tear in the cervix—too fast—” The words slip by me as my brain goes foggy.

They slip an oxygen mask over my face, but all I can think about is getting to Miranda and Carson. Things get dark and the world swirls against the grain as the cold catches up with me.

***  
“What am I going to do with you, my girl?” Miranda whispers against me. “Must you always terribly frighten me?” I blink awake to her gripping my hand.

“Miranda?” 

“Oh my girl!” She declares multiple times, kissing the top of head over and over again. I grip her hands.

“What happened? Did I fall asleep?” I ask. She’s crying.

“Oh, they said you were hemorrhaging from the fast delivery. It ruptured your cervix. You almost bled out on me, my darling. I cannot bear to lose you. Haven’t I told you that once before?”

“I…I almost died?” I whisper in shock. She nods and presses against me, kissing me softly.

“I thought I’d lost you,” she replies, lips trembling. “I don’t know what I would have done, Andrea. You are not allowed. It’s simply unacceptable. Do you understand me?”

“I’m so sorry, Miranda.”

“Hush. You’re here now with me and Carson. That’s all that matters. That you’re here with us. He’s here. He’s here, darling,” she says and picks him up out of the crib and my heart flutters. He’s not a large baby, having surprised us a few weeks early. He’s all dark hair and pinched face, but he’s ours.

“He looks like you,” Miranda says with a smile. I swallow and look up at her, suddenly full to the brink with emotions and most of them not good. 

“Oh my god, what if I can’t do this? Miranda, what if I fuck this up? I can’t…my parents and now, I’m—”

“Hush, my girl,” she says gently, stroking the top of Carson’s head. “Hush, now. Breathe. Remember what I’ve told you. You’re not too much, not too little, you’re just right. You’ll be a just right mother for us.” She leans over and kisses me softly. “Everything will be fine. We can do this together. I know you’re tired and scared, but do you trust me?”

“Always,” I hiccup. She smiles down at me with so much love that it stutters my heart.

“I love when you say that, my sweet, sweet girl,” she says affectionately. “We’ll manage like we always do. For our family, for us. Now…there is so much to do.” She turns away for a moment.

“I love you,” I gasp out desperately. “I love you so much.” She pauses from her pursuit of something in a bag, turns around to Carson and I…it’s so weird that he is out of my belly and in my arms. Like an escaped alien once growing in my belly, but a real live person now in the real world. She smiles upon me again, placing a hand on sleeping Carson’s head. Bending down, she steals my lips in a passionate kiss.

“Oh my girl. I love you more and more by the day.”

_FIN_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can't believe it's officially over. I had so much fun writing this particular piece. Thank you for joining me on this journey with Andy and Miranda. It's meant so much to me--all your comments, encouragements, and thoughts. I appreciate each and every one of you. Thank you.


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